Wait 'til Wednesday

Wait ‘til Wednesday

Peter T. Atkinson

It’s Sunday Morning, and it’s coming down,

With those alarm bells ringing through my head

And I tell you the way I’m feeling now,

If it was you, you’d prefer that you was dead.

I can’t remember much at all,

Where I went wrong

And took the fall,

The choices that I should’ve made instead,

Though I am in pain today

And do not have much else to say,

But if you wait ‘til Wednesday,

You’ll see that I’m ok.

Don’t come on Sunday, for the guilt will flow,

Don’t come on Monday, I’ll be too busy to know

If you come Tuesday , there’ll be still more to pay,

But if you wait ‘til Wednesday,

You’ll see that I’m ok.

For when that whiskey river flows your mind goes with it

Down the bending stream.

The things you find you do and say, are sometimes

Much worse than what they seem.

You think you’ll never get it back

And that your wheels have left the track

That you’ve gone and pissed away your dream.

But time always has a way

Of wiping the past away,

So if you wait ‘til Wednesday,

You’ll see that you’re ok.

Despite that on Sunday the guilt does flow,

And that on Monday, you stay too busy to know

Don’t worry on Tuesday, that you still have more to pay,

Just wait ‘til Wednesday, friend

You’ll see that you’re ok.

So now it’s Wednesday, and you’re feeling fine

And on Thursday you lose all track of time,

Then Friday and Saturday leave you back in pain,

Just wait ‘til Wednesday, friend

You’re back on top again.

Just wait ‘til Wednesday, friend

You’ll be back on top again.