Oh Sunday why must you be so mean,
The weekend’s gone
as if never seen…
Oh Sunday why must you be so mean,
The weekend’s gone
as if never seen…
I’m reaching for my jumper,
As I’m feeling rather cold,
Perhaps it’s a sign of things,
That I’m slowly getting old.
I often feel incompetent,
Not knowing what to do,
It’s like I don’t know where I am,
Or what on earth to do…
In a world that’s under pressure,
Full of wants and endless greed,
Better to be much more thoughtful,
And just stick to what you need.
Me and thee
were meant to be,
Thee and me,
just as you’ll see.
I feel just like a cactus,
As nobody comes near,
I’m prickly and I look odd,
My spiky-ness, it causes fear.
I talk often to my father,
Though he’s been dead for years,
He still offers good advice though,
And rids me of my fears…
The longer that you make them wait,
The keener they will be,
To disown you as a rubbish friend,
Try it and you will see…
Aligned in a certain order,
Read out loud or in your head,
The words I choose to slowly type,
The ones I wished I’d used instead.
I questioned myself,
Found some truth,
And revealed so much more,
The answers came,
At times uncooth,
I was kicked down on the floor.