| Monday, you pile of bones
|
| I hope someday you’ll go on home
|
| And take all of your friends away
|
| Leave the weekends, they can stay
|
| Moody, Monday blues
|
| What do you have to prove
|
| To all the Debbie Downers here?
|
| Stress was always your career
|
| If the world could sleep right through you
|
| Then I would. |
| too
|
| I wanna feel something better
|
| Than paying dues to all our debtors
|
| I wanna feel younger, not older
|
| And have the weight of the world
|
| Taken from my shoulders
|
| How could this mess you made
|
| Turn into a grand display
|
| Of all the things you’ve never done
|
| Achievements that you’ve never won?
|
| Long days sitting next to you
|
| Watching you flirt with dudes
|
| Hey Frank, she doesn’t care about your cat
|
| Or about that one time at band camp
|
| If the world could sleep right through you
|
| Then I would, too
|
| I wanna feel something better
|
| Than paying dues to all our debtors
|
| I wanna feel younger, not older
|
| And have the weight of the world
|
| Taken from my shoulders
|
| If the world could sleep right through you
|
| Then I would, too
|
| I wanna feel something better
|
| Than paying dues to all our debtors
|
| I wanna feel younger, not older
|
| And have the weight of the world
|
| Taken from my shoulders
|
| I wanna feel something better
|
| Than paying dues to all our debtors
|
| I wanna feel younger, not older
|
| And have the weight of the world
|
| Taken from my shoulders |