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 he 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