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