Sundays feel like Mondays And those days We hate them too. Sundays feel like Mondays And these days We hate them too. And you know Sunday in the morning Without a warning It comes for you We can hide it in the jungle Or in a bundle But it will get to you Sundays feel like Mondays And these days We hate them too. A cup of coffee in the morning Will keep you rolling And you'll pass it through A trip to Greece or to Barbados A night in Sweden A home in Peru A ball in Rome Sundays feel like Mondays And these days We hate them too. Oh you Sundays And I hate Mondays too Tuesdays don't work... And she's laughing and that's good Oh Sundays We'll get rid of Mondays! And February and March And all the fuckin months... Sundays feel like Mondays And these days We hate them too. We hate them too.