Sour Suite The Guess Who Written by Burton Cummings
Don't wanna listen to my telephone ring Or sing ding-a-ling or talk about a thing Not this mornin'
I don't wanna think about the night before Or maybe it's a bore behind that open door Got no time for that this mornin'
If I had the mind or I had the time Maybe I could throw together a new kind of rhyme And tell about my warnin'
But it's too late now It's too late now It's too late now
I don't wanna think about a runaway Dad That took away the only thing that I've ever had Don't even miss him this mornin'
I don't wanna think about a cold goodbye Or a high school buddy got a little too high I can't help him out this mornin'
Reviewers laugh at me so I go out to see And perhaps it's just as well, 'cause I'd rather be in hell Than be a wealthy man this mornin'
But it's too late now It's too late now It's too late now
Whatever happened to images, 'cause now they're gone And worn out phrases just keep a-hangin' on Whatever happened to homes as opposed to houses? A conversation, sayings as the evening drowses It's just like 4 6 2 O 1 It's just like 4 6 2 O 1
Whatever happened to early morning urban skies? And broken faces, half with melting eyes Enough of riddles that just play with time 'Cause I'm still here and I can't beg a dime
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