Sad News

I should have killed you myself

It was always a dream of mine

I could have used a little help

But red wine’s been a good friend of mine

I got sad news

Take off your shoes

Sit down for a while

A while, a while

Oh

I’m wearing me out

I’m wearing my old clothes

I’m writing all new poems

I’m riding in my car

Oh, the children, they’re just babies

Little baby-sized socks and shoes

And I think that maybe

I should keep them away from you

I crawl in and then

I creep out outloud

I got a job,

I’m not proud, I’m not proud, no

I’m wearing me out

I’m wearing my old clothes

I’m writing all new poems

I’m riding in my car

Sad, sad, I got sad news

I got

sad news

I got sad news

But it

(sad, sad, sad, sad)

it’s all over now

It

(sad, sad, sad, sad)

It’s all done

Red, red rover

I can’t remember the game

I’m wearing me out

I’m wearing my old clothes

I’m writing all new poems

I’m riding in my car