Thursday
Thursday,
the day of days for me,
the day that sets me free,
the day I’d like to be, like the alignment of the stars,
find me in pubs and bars,
doing back flips on top of cars
that’s how much I cherish it. The Sunday beret doesn’t fit.
I like Saturdays a little bit,
when Thursday is over
I’ve found my four leaf clover,
peace to Satan, praise for Yehovah
but when Thursday comes back
I’m on my grind,
there’s no other day
that fun could find,
at the peak of my week
I make my speech,
suck on Thursdays
like a leach,
measuring the time it takes
to get back to Thursday,
it goes by so quick
I measure again.
I love Thursdays
and I cannot pretend,
thinking of Thursday
till Wednesday ends.
Friday is my foe.
Thursday is my friend.
All other days
send me round the bend.
Thursday, I love you,
you’re one in a seven,
fifty-two in a three-six-five.
You’re the one
who makes feel alive.