Bruce Brittain
American Songwriter and Singer
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Lyrics

Blue Sunday

You called me up on Monday said, “Baby I’m through with you.”
You didn’t call on Tuesday, and doubts, I had a few
Wednesday came and I just stayed up in my bed
By Thursday the blues were playin’ in my head

Friday was our date-night but I stayed home alone
Saturday came and went while I sat by the phone
Now here comes Sunday and I don’t know what to do
Cause I’ve never thought of Sunday as blue
But I’ve never spent a Sunday without you.

Sunday I’d fix you an egg
Toast and coffee, too
We’d read the paper til’ well after noon
Baby I can’t believe we’re through

Called in sick on Monday, told the man, “I can’t come in.”
Tuesday I’m no better, all doctored-up on gin
Wednesday at work just starin’ off in space
I’m a Thursday rat who’s dropped out of the race
Friday happy hour has no appeal to me
Saturday there is lots to do but my calendar is free
Now here comes Sunday and I don’t know what to do
Cause I’ve never thought of Sunday as blue
Before I spent my Sundays without you.
Don’t like my Sundays
Not crazy ‘bout my Mondays
But I never thought of Sunday as blue

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