Sundays feel like Mondays
And those days
We hate them too.
Sundays feel like Mondays
And these days
We hate them too.
And you know Sunday in the morning
Without a warning
It comes for you
We can hide it in the jungle
Or in a bundle
But it will get to you
Sundays feel like Mondays
And these days
We hate them too.
A cup of coffee in the morning
Will keep you rolling
And you'll pass it through
A trip to Greece or to Barbados
A night in Sweden
A home in Peru
A ball in Rome
Sundays feel like Mondays
And these days
We hate them too.
Oh you Sundays
And I hate Mondays too
Tuesdays don't work...
And she's laughing and that's good
Oh Sundays
We'll get rid of Mondays!
And February and March
And all the fuckin months...
Sundays feel like Mondays
And these days
We hate them too.
We hate them too.
