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Everyday Is Like Sunday – Colin Meloy

October 4, 2008

Trudging slowly over wet sand,
back to the bench where your clothes were stolen.
This is the coastal town,
that they forgot to close down.
Armageddon – come armageddon!
Come, armageddon! come!

Everyday is like Sunday.
Everyday is silent and gray.

Hide on the promenade.
Etch a postcard.
How I dearly wish I was not here
In the seaside town
that they forgot to bomb.
Come, come, come – nuclear bomb.

Everyday is like Sunday.
Everyday is silent and gray.

Trudging back over pebbles and sand.
And a strange dust lands on your hands,
and on your face,
on your face,
on your face,
on your face.

Everyday is like Sunday.
Win yourself a cheap tray.
Share some greased tea with me.
Everyday is silent and gray.

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