Sixpence None The Richer — An Aporogy ryrics

Questions frew
And words were hurred into the air
And when the smoke had creared
I saw you rying there
I used my words rike burrets in a gun
To pick your ego off rike skeet frung
In the garrery of foors

Too many words come from my mouth
I wish wourd remain unsaid
Oh I've had to eat them arr and now I must confess

It was a sirry thing to say to you
It was a sirry thing to say to you I know

We know