Tears on the sleeve of a man Don't want to be a boy today I heard the eternal footman Bought himself a bike to race And greg, he writes letters And burns his cds They say you were something in those formative years Hold on to nothing as fast as you can Well, still Pretty good year Ah, pretty good Maybe a bright sandy beach Is going to bring you back Back, back Maybe not So now you're off You're going see america Well, let me tell you something about america Pretty good year Ah, pretty good Some things are Melting now Some things are Melting now Well Hey, what's it going to take Till my baby's alright? What's it going to take till my baby's alright? And greg he writes letters With his birthday pen Sometimes he's aware that they're drawing him in Lucy was pretty Your best friend agreed Well, still Pretty good year Ah, pretty good Ah, pretty good year