I shoulda killed you myself
It was always a dream of mine
I coulda used a little help
But red wine's been a good friend of mine

I've got sad news
Take off your shoes
Sit down for a while
A while
A while, now

I'm wearing me out
I'm wearing my old clothes
I'm writing all new poems
I'm riding in my car

Oh the children, they're just babies
Little baby-sized socks and shoes
And I think that maybe
I should keep them away from you

I'll crawl in and then
I'll creep out, out loud
I've got a job
I'm not proud
I'm not proud
I'm wearing me out
I'm wearing my old clothes
I'm writing all new poems
I'm riding in my car

Sad, sad
I've got sad news
I do
Sad news
I've got sad news

But it's all over now
It's all done
Red, Red Rover:
I can't remember the game

I'm wearing me out
I'm wearing my old clothes
I'm writing all new poems
I'm riding in my car