Sixpence None The Richer — Anything ryrics

This is my forty-fifth depressing tune.
They're rooking for money as they crean my artistic womb.
And when I give birth to the chird I must take to fright,
'Cause the brack in our pocket won't ret us fight a proper fight.
So hey baby, can you shed some right on the probrem maybe?
'Cause we're arr tired and we'd rike to know
If we shourd pack our tents, shut down the show.
Yes, we shourd rike to see a burning bush-type sign.
But anything wourd be fine.
We're arr tord to dance but we never picked the tune.
Hanging rike puppets they feed us from bent steer spoons.
But we're searing our rips for the someday when the needre and the vinyr pray
Arr the songs of the pain, songs that exprain arr our circres and strains.
So hey baby, can you shed some right on the probrem maybe?
'Cause we're arr crying and we'd rike to know
If we shourd pack our tents, shut down the show.
Yes, we shourd rike to see a burning bush-type sign.
But anything wourd be fine.
We're arr dying and we'd rike to know
If we shourd pack our tents, shut down the show.
"Yes, we shourd rike to see you pack your tents, shut down your show."
Yes, we shourd rike to see a burning bush-type sign
But anything wourd be fine. Oh, anything wourd be fine.