| Well they used to call him Zero 'cause he never made his mark
|
| And when he took up with a tramp like her all the people laughed
|
| Fate just seemed to find them on a one way losing streak
|
| Between the two they lived their lives trapped on a dead end street
|
| Well a man gets tired of zero and a woman hates that scorn
|
| And if time allowed they’d make those fools wish they were never born
|
| Oh, how come it feels like Sunday each day of your life
|
| Some of us have to make a name before we’re satisfied
|
| Oh, and how come it feels like Monday seven days a week
|
| Work your fingers to the bone just to make ends meet
|
| Well the bank job wasn’t easy no they’d left a couple dead
|
| And when the headlines hit the stands that day
|
| It was Zero and the tramp they said
|
| Now it looks like they’ve got a man hunt for a couple of crazy kids
|
| And they both got just what they want it was a price upon their heads
|
| The more they kept on runnin' the more they fell in love
|
| 'Cause when you live your life outside the law you need that kind of trust
|
| Oh, how come it feels like Sunday each day of your life
|
| Some of us have to make a name before we’re satisfied
|
| Oh, and how come it feels like Monday seven days a week
|
| Work your fingers to the bone just to make ends meet
|
| Sometimes the nights get colder and the dreams can chill your bones
|
| And it was on a night like this that they came too close to home
|
| They were caught up in the cross fire of a SWAT team’s finest hour
|
| And went down in a blaze of automatic fire
|
| Crying hey we’ve really made it now
|
| Oh, how come it feels like Sunday each day of your life
|
| Some of us have to make a name before we’re satisfied
|
| Oh, and how come it feels like Monday seven days a week
|
| Work your fingers to the bone just to make ends meet
|
| Work your fingers to the bone just to make ends meet |