When Monday feels like Sunday
when you'd rather stay in bed because
last night you went to Carnival
and now the living dead see through the
bloodshot in your eyes,
when the blue sky's just a vampire that is
there to **** veins dry and you need that pint of alcohol
in order to get by,
I wonder why as I often do why I do the things I so often do.

When the night shades shade no night and the light burns in your eyes and the morning wakes you with a grin and you're making up those lies to spin
a yarn,
there'll be a countdown just as soon as you leave the safety of your room and the bride that was will teach the groom because that's what brides can do.

No breakfast lad for you, you're in the doghouse feeling sad,
bad boy.

Was the music worth all that,
when deflated feeling flat and how will you explain away the losing of another day?

I think I should have stayed at home instead
all this aggro's doing in my head
I'm going back to bed
until
tomorrow.