Cabin fever, Sunday blues. Lying on the kitchen floor. Wishing you might come around and lift me up, Cause I'm all out of good ideas... And I've been wondering if I could have kept you in a jar, Kept the lid on for good. 'Cause I know we can't go back, Or keep time from running. And I'm all out of good ideas, But you know that honey... It's a sorry kind of summer, But I know a thing or two about duck and cover, Cut and run. And I'm longing to get rolling with the band, Wide open sea, Back to what I need... Chart a course for somewhere I know I can disappear. I'm trading places with the man in the morning paper. 'Cause I know we can't go back, Can't keep time from running. And I'm all out of good ideas, But you know that, honey... It's a sorry kind of summer, But I know a thing or two about duck and cover, Cut and run. And I'm longing to get rolling with the band, Wide open sea, Back to what I need... Cabin fever Sunday blues...