The journalist writes down
The things he remembers
The things he forgets
Are the things that you feel
Gets off on his own quotes
And breaks into
(Thatcher)
I don't understand
Who will buy him a meal?
Let's face it, I'm wrong again
Let's face it, it's still Sunday
Let's face it, I'm wrong again
Let's face it, it don't worry me
You feel in the first set
That this is a nightmare
I can't hear a word
And I don't feel a thing
The manager looks on
Ignoring the problem
'Cause he's the solution
So what's in it for him?
Let's face it, I'm wrong again
Let's face it, it's still Sunday
Let's face it, I'm wrong again
Let's face it, it don't worry me
You get so excited
And then you are let down
The idea that you had
Is pushed to one side
But then in the next set
It's perfectly magic
And all of your problems
Are suddenly fine
Let's face it, I'm wrong again
Let's face it, it's still Sunday
Let's face it, I'm wrong again
Let's face it, it don't worry me