The beginning to the end,
no time to pretend,
that time is our friend.
Tomorrow, & today, we live our Sunday blues,
its all the same– it’s no old news.
We keep wishing for time to fly,
and the more we wish
the more time goes by.
Met someone the other day,
just to throw them away.
Was never here, was never meant to stay.
“They say” tomorrow is a brand new day.
When time is irrelevant,
there is no time to repent.
All the days become the “Sunday blues.”
It’s all the same, no old news.