I Hate Spending Sundays Alone

one rainy sabbath I was making my way through the many tasks I had that day there were some things I needed to get so I hiked on over to the supermarket where I trailed a couple who were all smiles as they made their way through the cavernous aisles when he kissed her at the pre-cooked chicken it drove that old point home I hate spending Sundays alone for just one day I'd like to say that someone calls me his own I hate spending Sundays alone. getting through April's always a chore there's a million things to do and more trying to keep my weak mind clear as I earn my keep for the rest of the year 'til I reach the one day of the week I can't mow customer's lawns I hate spending Sundays alone for just one day I'd like to say that someone calls me his own I hate spending Sundays alone. is it so much to request? to spend the day God himself set aside for rest at the side of a loved one, an angel sleeping on my chest with every beat of his heart I feel the weight of the week's work being repealed my strength returnes to me the way only that someone's touch can heal. that day ain't here, it ain't even near I'm reaping the seeds I've sewn I hate spending Sundays alone another weekends and once again I'm facing the next one alone my heart as empty as my home I hate spending Sundays alone.