I hate Monday.

it is morning, And I have to take out the trash. I drag it to the curb, And a little dog bites me on the knee. I hate Mondays. Comes the afternoon, I take my break from work. I get my sandwich from the back, of the filthy employee fridge. I hate Mondays. [sad fiddle bridge] I come home at night. Bone weary I drag myself to the table. My reheated leftovers slop on the plate, They taste like shite. I hate Mondays. I shamble to my living room. Turn on the TV, same old boring shows. I reach for my whisky bottle. The damned thing is dry as a bone I hate Mondays I get into bed and pull up the sheets. The covers slip and tangle. My feet poke through and the icy air, Turns my toes an icy blue. I hate Mondays Tomorrow is Tuesday And I hate Tuesday twice as much, [insane bagpipe outro]