Words by Steven Page & Ed Robertson

Music by Steven Page



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?



Chorus



Was it something I said, or was it something you read

That's making me think that I should never have come here

I can offer you lies, I can tell you good-bye.

I can tell you I'm sorry, But I can't tell you the truth, dear

And what if I could -- would it do any good?

You'll still never get to see the contents of



Chorus



You're so nineteen-ninety

And it's nineteen-ninety-four

Leave this world behind me

'Cause you don't want me anymore.