It Must Be Sunday - Phoebe Snow

And I watched the world surround me

>From inside a phone booth

And it began to astound me I tried to keep my couth

I said it must be Sunday

'Cause ev’rybody’s tellin' the truth

And then again it might be Monday

Yeah it might be Monday

'Cause ev’rybody’s drinkin' vermouth

She lent her hand

At the kissing stand

But she gave 'em away for free

With an acid joke and a box of smoke

She can barely see

She drives her bus at dusk

With headlights off

And headphones up And for tomorrow

She has planned a shopping spree

There’s a man who loved so hard

He was like a billboard grin

He toasted life and beauty

'Til his head began to spin

He pressed his cheek

On rainwashed streets

And he wept into his gin

Reincarnation

And he came back as himself again

December thirty-first

Is the very worst time of the year

You got to think of people

That you like enough

To share your beer

Just when you’re having fun

It’s January one

And you wait for explanations

To appear