Sunday: left a note somewhere
Hoping they'll stop me tomorrow
Saturday: sat in the darkness
Wondering if I was the arrow
For now I'll wet a towel
The kids are fast asleep
They'll chisel his name from my headstone
But everything else he'll keep
Monday: caught my head in the oven
(Dance of Tuesday broken
All this nothing spoken
Barking up the wrong tree
No one comes to save me)
The future's a spot on the altar
The future's a worn out stare
Blowing kisses into nothing
Maybe it's not really there
But today I'm not moving backward
I'm no stranger to feeding the needles
A few miles away they'll be recording
Please, Please Me by The Beatles