The journalist writes down The things he remembers The things he forgets Are the things that you feel Gets off on his own quotes And breaks into (Thatcher) I don't understand Who will buy him a meal? Let's face it, I'm wrong again Let's face it, it's still Sunday Let's face it, I'm wrong again Let's face it, it don't worry me You feel in the first set That this is a nightmare I can't hear a word And I don't feel a thing The manager looks on Ignoring the problem 'Cause he's the solution So what's in it for him? Let's face it, I'm wrong again Let's face it, it's still Sunday Let's face it, I'm wrong again Let's face it, it don't worry me You get so excited And then you are let down The idea that you had Is pushed to one side But then in the next set It's perfectly magic And all of your problems Are suddenly fine Let's face it, I'm wrong again Let's face it, it's still Sunday Let's face it, I'm wrong again Let's face it, it don't worry me