i keep thinking it's wednesday

every morning seems cold & grey
at the epicentre of sweet f.a.
nothing original about my sin
this rut looked so comfortable on my way in
'cos I'm too old to make it, too young to die
too god damned middle-aged to occupy
all my epiphanies are in the past
if something's on its way, better make it fast

I keep thinking it's wednesday, baby...