The weekly contradiction a day of rest
Each one the same if you’re really pressed
Sleep in for a while if your mind will concede
let the batteries recharge like we all know they need
Rise when you like this time reserved for you
Nothing feels better than having nothing better to do
Simple pleasures fill the hours that fly by
Morning becomes afternoon in the blink of an eye
Then comes that moment the one we all dread
We stop living Sunday and see Monday instead
Before you know it the sun has gone down
Your day of rest gone nowhere left to be found
Better to have than to not but somehow the same
The myth that is Sunday is a never-ending shame

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