Monday makes me blue,
oh!
that can't be true
can it?

If each day is a colour change,
and each change is the open range
the world could be your cattle drive.

I stave off these thoughts of the prairie
by hoping the good lord will save me
but the devil dressed up as a genie
leads me astray
making me and the Monday, blue.

It could be midnight in Boston
and we're being tossed on
the scrapheap,

the Romans went through it
and now it's our turn to do it
and by do it
I mean ***** it
up.