He stands out in the dark, on the fire escape
The yearning for a cigarette is nipping at his nape
He’s not sure what is wrong, but something isn’t right
It’s just feels like how it always feels every Sunday night.
Tomorrow is always looming, and tomorrow will have brought
Everything he’s been avoiding, to pay for the guilt that he has wrought
The air hangs so heavy; dead and dismal around his head
Sunday can never be enjoyed because tomorrow you’ll be dead.
The emptiness fills his lungs, as he inhales deep
He’s not sure if he should stay awake, or try to get some sleep.
Everyday might feel like Sunday, but he just has to pretend
That tomorrow will be better, and someday Sunday will end.
(Starring the Timetraveler Ki! Grab his new LP “Lawnmower Man” here!)