Friday on the horizon, now that Wednesday’s gone,
Thursday was the day that the show Sienfeld came on.
Thursday, oh Thursday, I loved you so much more,
When I was a little child, you weren’t such a teasing whore.
Now, my job is meaningless – Thursday, hurry up!
Your second hands are slow pouring into my timesheet cup.
It’s always on a Thursday, when I get to thinking.
I can’t wait to go home, get naked and start drinking.
Sitting there, in my robe, with Sportscenter on,
I go and order Chinese food from a place called Mi Kong Won.
But then I always get there, sit down on my couch,
And remember that I forgot to take the recycling out.
Why do we recycle? Is it just a myth?
Now, everything is Green, even my own shit.
Eating apples, eating pears – fiber, fiber, stop!
My stomach is holding up the bank and I’m the only cop.
But Thursday, you have never judged me by my stomach issues.
In fact, you’ve never spoken, you’ve only offered tissues.
You know the sorrow that I feel, the pain the alarm clock brings.
You know how much I hate the way Mariah Carey sings.
Memories of Thursday – thrown out to the wind.
I sit and wait and watch for my broken bones to mend.
Friday is so close in reach, so near to thy bare hand.
Weekend come down on us, stretch out upon the land.
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