[Steven Page/Ed Robertson]

A key in the door, a step on the floor
A note on the table, and a meal in the micro
Note says "I'm in bed, please make sure that you're fed
if you're taking a shower, you can borrow my bathrobe
When I'm asleep I dream you move in next week"
I crumple the note and save it to put inside

Chorus:
My shoe box
Shoe box of lies
Shoe box
Shoe box of lies

it's under my bed, it's never been read
it's in with my school stuff and my mom never cleans there
From my first little fib, when I still wore a bib
To my latest attempt at pretending I'm someone
Who's not seventeen, doesn't know what you mean
When talk turns to single malts, or stilton, or

Chorus

Did somebody tell you
This is how it's supposed to be?
Or did you just find it
And you don't want any more from me?

See also:
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