Here's where the story ends (spoken)

The person in the story feels uncomfortable and isolated around people and in certain places. They regret saying that they only loved someone for the books they read. They reflect on a bad year and a shed full of memories that embarrass them. They feel tired and believe others look down on them. The story ends with the person acknowledging that they belong on the outside. People I know, places I go, make me feel tongue-tied, but I can see how people look down, they're on the inside. Here's where the story ends. People I see, weary of me, showing my good side. I can see how people look down, I'm on the outside. Here's where the story ends. It's that little souvenir of a terrible year, which makes my eyes still sore, how I never should have said that the books that you read were all I loved you for. It's that little souvenir of a terrible year, which makes me wonder why, it's the memories of your shed that make me turn red, surprise, surprise, surprise. Crazy I know, places I go, make me feel so tired, and I can see how people look down, I'm on the outside. Here's where the story ends. Here's where the story ends. It's that little souvenir of a terrible year, which makes my eyes still sore, and who ever would have thought that the books that you bought were all I loved you for. Oh, the devil in me said, go down to the shed, I know where I belong, but the only thing I ever really wanted to say was wrong, was wrong, was wrong. It's that little souvenir of a colourful year, which makes me smile inside, so I cynically, cynically say, the world is that way, surprise, surprise, surprise. Here's where the story ends. Oh, here's where the story ends.