Pretty Good Year - Tori Amos

Tears on the sleeve of a man

Don’t want to be a boy today

I heard the eternal footman

Bought himself a bike to race

And Greg he writes letters and burns his CDs

They say you were something in those formative years

Hold onto nothing as fast as you can

Well, still, pretty good year

Pretty good

Maybe a bright sandy beach

Is gonna bring you back, back, back

Maybe not, so now you’re off

You’re gonna see America

Well let me tell you something about America

Pretty good year

A-ha, pretty good

Some things are melting now

Some things are melting now

Well, hey, what’s it gonna take

Till my baby’s alright?

What’s it gonna take

Till my baby’s alright?

Greg, he writes letters with his birthday pen

Sometimes he’s aware that they’re drawing him in

Lucy was pretty, your best friend agreed

Well, still, pretty good year

A-ha, pretty good

A-ha, pretty good year