Sunday Morning

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Robert Daniel Irwin

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Year:

2020

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The football game’s not even over yet; she took my TV set.
She just broke it and left it out there by the road.
I put my beer down and I told her: this time I’m leaving for sure.
I slammed the door of my Caprice and I just drove.

Monday I drive far.
Tuesday stop in some dive bar.
By Wednesday I forget what highway I’m on.
Thursday, Friday I sleep in the car,
Saturday just stare at the stars.
By Sunday morning, I’m back here mowing the lawn.
By Sunday morning, I’m back here mowing the lawn.

When I was young, my pa told me: Don’t lead no life of misery.
Do what you do, do what you want, and you’ll do well.
I never did take folks’ advice, so I’m living someone else’s life.
Raising kids, instead of raising glasses and hell.

Monday I drive far.
Tuesday stop in some dive bar.
By Wednesday I forget what highway I’m on.
Thursday, Friday I sleep in the car,
Saturday just stare at the stars.
By Sunday morning, I’m back here mowing the lawn.
By Sunday morning, I’m back here mowing the lawn.

Someday I think I’m gonna fly, gonna get up and get real high.
Go to L.A., L.V., or maybe Tijuan.
Drink and smoke all I want, live lip to lip, and shot to shot.
Never, never, never stop until I am done.

Monday I drive far.
Tuesday stop in some dive bar.
By Wednesday it won’t matter what highway I’m on.
Thursday, Friday I sleep in the car,
Saturday just stare at the stars.
By Sunday morning, I’m back here mowing the lawn.
By Sunday morning, I’m back here mowing the lawn.
By Sunday morning, I’m back here mowing the lawn.
By Sunday morning, I’m back here where I belong.

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