If I Had £1 For Every Stale Song Title I’d Be 30 Short Of Getting Out Of This Mess

You can call them chronicles
You can call them songs
It's an aural rhetoric for the year that's gone
You can call them chronicles
You can call them songs
It's an aural rhetoric for the year that's gone

You favour progression over honesty
Whilst you pick apart the misguided things that you thought about me
If you took the time just to get a clue
Than you'll probably just realise I'm the same as you

You can call them chronicles
You can call them songs
It's an aural rhetoric for the year that's gone
You can call them chronicles
You can call them songs
It's an aural rhetoric for the year that's gone

And in the last 12 months
I've felt like a stopgap
And a punch bag and a doormat
But I'm better than that

And I don't want to feel
That the only thing that can make me real
Is the fact that I can sing and write
For the joy of someone else

You can call them chronicles
You can call them songs
It's an aural rhetoric for the year that's gone
You can call them chronicles
You can call them songs
It's an aural rhetoric for the year that's gone