Lyrics

Every Sunday
© Bill Gaunce

I hear the paper hit the walk
Too tired to think
Too tired too talk

Sit up slowly in my bed
I curse my throbbing
Aching head

It's the same routine
It's the same ol' scene
Every Sunday

What happened to me last night?
I had to much to drink
Did we argue, have a big fight?
It hurts too much to think
Can you tell me where my car is?
It's prob'ly somewhere safe
Right there where I left it
Parked around the block
Right there where I find it
Every Sunday

Pour another cup of coffee
Black, no cream
I love caffeine

And buttered toast with cherry jam
No margarine
That stuff's a scam

It's the same routine
It's the same ol' scene
Every Sunday

What happened to me last night?
I had to much to drink
Did we argue, have a big fight?
It hurts too much to think
Can you tell me where my clothes are?
They're prob'ly somewhere safe
Right there where I left 'em
In the backseat of my car
Right there where I find 'em
Every Sunday

I must have a disease
But I don't cough or sneeze
I probably need a shrink
To change the way I think
Every Sunday