Aimee Mann

It must be hard ringing the bells
Of doors that don't swing wide anymore
It must be hard hearing the sound
Of voices just inside of the door
A man who couldn't hold your coat
Who's hung on ever antidote
So it must be hard watching the fellows gloat
Ballantines
It must be hard seeing the same old crowd
Just pass you by in the street
It must be tough knowing your stuff
Could only horrify the elite
You cut off everyone you know
Boy you told 'em all where to go