| Tomorrow is the one day I would change for a Monday
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| With freezing rains melting and no trains running
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| And sad eyes passing in windows flimsy
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| And my seat rocking from legs not quite matching
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| Got passport, credit cards, a plane that I’m catching
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| Black Sunday falls one day too soon
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| The taxi that takes me will be moving so quickly
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| My suitcases simply too full for the closing
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| Of pants, shirts and kisses all packed in a hurry
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| Two best-selling paper backs chosen at random ---
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| No sign of sales-persons to whom I might hand them
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| Black Sunday falls one day too soon
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| And down at the airport are probably waiting
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| A few thousand passengers, overbooked seating
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| Time long suspended in transit-lounge traumas ---
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| Connections broken and Special Branch watching
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| Conspicuously standing in holiday clothing
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| Black Sunday falls one day too soon
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| Pick up my feet and kick off my lethargy
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| Down to the gate with the old mood upon me
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| Get out and chase the small immortality
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| Born in the minute of my next returning
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| Impatient feet tapping and cigarette burning
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| Homecoming one day too soon
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| And back at the house there’s a grey sky a-tumbling
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| Milk bottles piling on door steps a-crumbling
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| Curtains all drawn and cold water plumbing
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| Notepaper scribbles I read unbelieving
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| Saying how sorry, how sad was the leaving
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| …one day too soon |