My Finest Hour Lyrics - The Sundays

And the world it shows me up 

My clothes they show me up 

I never knew this before 

My finest hour that I've ever known 

Was finding a pound on the underground 

And my words came stumbling out 

Then I went tumbling out 

I've never been hit before 

And the finest hour that I've ever known 

Was finding a pound on the underground 

And I'll keep hoping you are the same as me 

And I'll send you letters and come to your house for tea 

We are who we are, what do the others know? 

But poetry is not for me 

So show me the way to go home 

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And the words came stumbling out of my mouth 

And then I went tumbling out... 

But I'll keep hoping you are the same as me 

And I'll send you letters and come to your house for tea 

We are who we are what do the others know? 

But poetry is not for me so show me the way to go 

Oh, I'm going home 

But I'll keep hoping you are the only one 

Yes and I'll send you letters, wouldn't it be such fun? 

We are who we are whatever the others say 

But poetry is not for me 

And much as I'd like to stay 

Oh, I just want to go home 

Photos 

You're, you're, you're too young 

Should've been you, you're, you're too young 

It should've been you too, you're too, you're too young 

It should've been you you you're too young 

You should've been safer, saner 

Bribed the judge and then sat down 

Ooh you're, you're, you're too young