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Sunday nights are slow surrender |
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It never lasts and we'll never learn |
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We can still make this one to remember |
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It's Sunday night and we've time to burn |
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Tomorrow morning can wait its turn |
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Charge your glasses, raise a toast |
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To the memory gained |
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To the sleep that we lost |
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Another weekend run to ground |
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Another passing coat of red |
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Painted across our town |
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Work is shallow, cuts are deep |
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Who would waste two days respite? |
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You can't catch up on sleep |
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So here we are, last chance saloon |
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The ticking clock and a slow defeat |
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It'll all be over soon |
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Sunday nights are slow surrender |
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It never lasts and we'll never learn |
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We can still make this one to remember |
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It's Sunday night and we've time to burn |
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Tomorrow morning can wait its turn |
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Once more friends unto the breach |
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Bleary eyed, the stuff of dreams |
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Always slips out of reach |
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Defiance dressed in crumpled clothes |
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Protest played out with a headache |
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Starting late but going slow |
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Though we know we have to be here |
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We have tasted freer air, we don't have to care |
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Sunday nights are slow surrender |
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It never lasts and we'll never learn |
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We can still make this one to remember |
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It's Sunday night and we've time to burn |
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Tomorrow morning can wait its turn |
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All our days will fade away |
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In hazy nights and clear mistakes |
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So here's to us and needs that must |
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Let's raise a toast for one last boast' |
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Cause it's |
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Sunday night and we've time to burn |
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Tomorrow morning can wait its turn |
