Sundays By John Calvin

Gulping a glass of water, pale from the lack of sleep
Watching an agile fox, as onto the wall he leaps

Something tells me it's Sunday, it's Sunday all today
The other days lost their power, but Sunday still has its way

I can see them, I can hear them
All those half-remembered things
Like the Sundays by John Calvin
When they tied up all the swings

Other things can't reach me, I left them in the past
But Sunday always beats me, its melancholy lasts

I can hear them, I can see them
All those half-remembered things
Like the Sundays by John Calvin
When they tied up all the swings

And now the shops stay open, and football can be played
But feeling blue on Sunday, I carry to this day

I'm gulping a glass of water, pale from the lack of sleep
Watching an agile fox, as onto the wall he leaps