Black Sunday
Tomorrow is the one day I would change for a MondayWith freezing rains melting and no trains runningAnd sad eyes passing in windows flimsyAnd my seat rocking from legs not quite matching,Got passport, credit cards, a plane that I'm catching,Black Sunday falls one day too soon.
The taxi that takes me will be moving so quickly,My suitcases simply too full for the closingOf pants, shirts and kisses all packed in a hurry,Two best-selling paperbacks chosen at random,No sign of sales persons to whom I might hand them,Black Sunday falls one day too soon.
And down at the airport are probably waitingA few thousand passengers, overbooked seating,Time long suspended in transit lounge traumas,Connections broken and Special Branch watching,Conspicuously standing in holiday clothing,Black Sunday falls one day too soon.
Pick up my feet and kick off my lethargy,Down to the gate with the old mood upon me,Get out and chase the small immortalityBorn in the minute of my next returning,Impatient feet tapping and cigarette burning,Homecoming one day too soon.
Back at the house there's a gray sky a-tumbling,Milk bottles piling on door steps a-crumbling,Curtains all drawn and cold water plumbing,Notepaper scribbles I read unbelieving,Saying how sorry, how sad was the leavingOne day too soon.
Tomorrow is the one day I would change for a MondayWith freezing rains melting and no trains runningAnd sad eyes passing in windows flimsyAnd my seat rocking from legs not quite matching,Got passport, credit cards, a plane that I'm catching,Black Sunday fell one day too soon.