So many things
She's pa**ed out drunk
I'm seventeen
On the t.v. screen
A preacher sings
Glory be to him
I want to invite you home
I want to invite you home
I want to call you on the phone
But it's too late
I know what you're dad would say
He'd say "it's too late to call"
I write you a note
In ball point pen
I left it all in
I slip it to you
In the hallways
In the hallway
I want to ask you home
I want to invite you home
I don't want to be alone anymore
And in the hall
You slipped one back into my palm
It says "i'll never come home with you"
So after all I've been let down
I've been let down
It's nothing new
I can handle it
I can handle it