Mark Twain, detail of photo by Mathew Brady, February 7, 1871
Well, I liked the king, and as king I respected him—respected the office; at least respected it as much as I was capable of respecting any unearned supremacy; but as MEN I looked down upon him and his nobles—privately. And he and they liked me, and respected my office; but as an animal, without birth or sham title, they looked down upon me—and were not particularly private about it, either. I didn’t charge for my opinion about them, and they didn’t charge for their opinion about me: the account was square, the books balanced, everybody was satisfied.
Sorry we broke up, sorry I missed you
Sorry I wanted only to kiss you
Sorry I promised to love you forever
Made you feel guilty, oh when you left me
Sorry I showed up at your party
Sorry I drank up all the Bacardi
Sorry I puked up on your bedspread
Sorry I wanted to be your boyfriend again
What can I do?
It’s over, it’s over, it’s over
What can I do? I am the loser
Sorry I saw you and I heard birds sing
Sorry I touched you and I heard bells ring
Sorry I jacked off outside of you window
While you were sleeping
I thought you’d never know
Sorry I showed up at your wedding
Sorry I tried so hard to get in
Sorry I screwed up your picture
Sorry I had sex with your sister
What can I do?
It’s over, it’s over, it’s over
What can I do? I am the loser
Sorry we broke up, sorry I missed you
Sorry I wanted only to kiss you
Sorry I promised to love you forever
Made you feel guilty, oh when you left me
Sorry I showed up at your dinner
Sorry I said those things to you father
Sorry I crashed throught your window on acid
Sorry I made a mess, sorry I bled to death
What can I do?
It’s over, it’s over, it’s over
What can I do? I am the loser
Songwriters
GRIPP, PARRY / DENNIS, CHARLIE / SHERLOCK, STEVE
