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about

An apology, of sorts.

lyrics

I'm sorry every time we meet I try to sweep you off your feet and end up drunk in the street

and I know that it is fake, making promises I'll break with tomorrow's headache

in my defence, it makes no sense that every friday evening
we go out to drink and shout and give our lives meaning
but who am I to have to try to break from the madness
and be destroyed by those annoyed I've escaped from the sadness?

credits

from The Greatest Invention Ever, released April 16, 2007

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Lardpony UK

Derbyshire indiepop band. Mostly defunct.

Tom - vocals, guitar
The Nathan - bass, thought
Pod - drums
Swap - keyboards, vocals

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