In the end everyone gets boring, every girl gets a boyfriend.
Everybody gets a mortgage, discusses the rate of interest.
Everybody buys three piece suites, sees going out as a special treat,
as a break from watching the TV but I really wanted to believe
that you, you were different, you could hold my interest,
that the sex might get intense but, in the end, we never had sex.
I’m happiest on my own, writing songs in my room,
putting musings on where I’m going wrong into words to sing along.
And sometimes it seems like music is my enemy
I lose myself in songs, avoid reality.
And I don’t act upon my feelings.
I don’t act upon my feelings like I ought to do.
I was feigning interest in all your favourite subjects -
the ridiculous part of this is I believed I had an interest.
It wasn’t all just pretend so that I could be your friend
but would I have become your friend if I didn’t want something at the end?
The truth is I don’t know – I don’t think I am so shallow.
I think I wanted you to say no – I write better songs when I feel low
and I know in six months time exactly where I’ll be.
In my room, writing songs, about whatever girl I met that week.
And sometimes it seems like music is my enemy
I lose myself in songs, avoid reality.
And I don’t act upon my feelings.
I don’t act upon my feelings like I ought to do.
And every time I met a girl and thought things might happen eventually
I waited, procrastinated, ’til she walked away from me.
‘Cos what if she said yes? I couldn’t write songs about loneliness.
Then what would I have left? Oh then, what would I do?
You won’t believe this to be true
but I knew it’d never work with you.
I always know I’d get hurt
but I hoped for some enjoyment first.
And I know you really aren’t to blame
I just don’t know how to play the game.
I don’t act upon my feelings
I don’t act upon my feelings.
I don’t act upon my feelings like I ought to do.
