(Verse 1) Sunday morning, the sun's already up Dust on the window, time seems to have stopped No one in the street, a heavy silence lies Just the ticking clock, a sound that never dies (Verse 2) Coffee on the table, cold, almost bitter Empty mind, without a single flitter I stare at the ceiling, an old crack in the paint Life just keeps going, without any complaint (Verse 3) Radio's off, no melody to hear Just the murmur of my own heart, so clear The sheets are crumpled, the night has gone by Another Sunday, the routine's drawing nigh (Verse 4) No messages, no phone starts to ring Loneliness in my soul, the same old sting The hours keep passing, slow, dragging along Waiting for Monday, to right what feels wrong (Verse 5) The day just crawls by, without color or heat The same old feeling, the same old defeat Sunday morning, the stillness with no end Just the certainty that it's always been