SUNDAY BOOTS
[Prelude]
Saturday nights last like leather;
every mark holds a face.
But Sunday I drink the water
that washes drunkenness away.
[Verse]
I keep some water beside my bed
so I won't have to leave my room.
And I dream about work calling
till its Sunday afternoon.
They need me to sell 10 more fans
to some dustbowl refugees.
But they never come with a stand
so the dust wins eventually.
I shouldn't worry on my days off
and Saturdays I don't.
But Sunday is too close to Monday
when I'm back on the road.
[Chorus]
Saturdays come and go.
Sundays go on and on.
By the time I can take it slow
Saturday is gone.
[Verse]
Saturday's the best time of the year
when I've used all my sick days.
Then I can join my friends for a beer,
a fire, and a Costco steak.
At night we camp on the river,
burning every log we can find.
By morning we'll've cleared all the timber,
even the cord we set aside.
We'll warm our coffee on the ground
and pour sugar from a boot,
standing on an aluminum mound
without a lighter to use.
[Chorus]
Saturdays come and go.
Sundays go on and on.
By the time the lighter shows,
Saturday is gone.
[Bridge]
Saturday is so far away
when you’re walking door to door
and the soles of layaway boots
don't carry you.
In this life of debts
one day of rest
ain't long enough to remove
the work from Sunday boots.
[Verse]
Sunday I embalm my boots
and cremate the laundry.
A house filled with timers proves
that work never dies on Sunday.
There’s smoke coming from the back of
my over-run dryer.
Now all the money I've been stacking
will be gone in an hour.
So I'll miss another football game
and swallow some soggy nachos.
'Cause today I work from home,
getting paid to be poor.
[Chorus]
Saturdays come and go.
Sundays go on and on.
By the time the chores are done
the weekend is gone.
Saturdays come and go.
Sundays go on and on.
By the time I get to take it slow
Saturday is gone.
[Coda]
Saturday nights last like leather;
every mark holds a face
until Sunday morning comes
and washes it away.