Текстове на песни: Sunday Drivers (The). Little Heart Attacks. Hate Yourself.

My lovely ways have become so nasty
The things that you loved, those things once took your fancy
Have you ever, in your mess, found a chance to hate yourself?

There is not a grain of truth in anything you've been doing
How you dare to say: "I'm alright, I'm in my isle, I don't need you"
Listen to my voice, I know is not your choice, I'm the same who
Listened to your voice, and know, was not my choice. How I needed you.

We never thought we could ever get old
Get old or lost or to find new roads
Have you ever, in your mess, found a chance to hate yourself?

There is not a grain of truth in anything you've been doing
How you dare to say: "I'm alright, I'm in my isle, I don't need you"
Listen to my voice, I know is not your choice, I'm the same who
Listened to your voice, when it was not my choice. How I needed you.