Days of the Week - Charlotte Martin

It's Monday morning and the coffee's on the brill 
The sun's a warning, sending signals to the moon 
I rise and fall in my accustomed rusted habits 
I cant believe myself 
And I can hardly stand it anymore 

It's Tuesday morning 
I file my nails and wash my hair 
You're still sleeping like I'm hardly even there 
The smell of tangerines are floating through the window 
I wonder if someday I'll turn into your widow or your maid 

It's Wednesday morning 
I think you may have tried to cheat 
I smell the perfume on the inside of your sleeve 
I must admit I know I can be uite obsessive 
I get dramatic and I'm ready to confess it to the lord 

It's Thursday morning 
I could be pregnant; could be bored 
I want to love you 
I want to be the staple sword 
We might be out of soap or real communication 
And all the tricks my little brain plays on my nerves 
They need to end 

It's Friday morning 
Thank god the weekend's almost here 
Let's get some breakfast and get far away from here 
So I can tell you that I am a secret agent 
Who's stationed in a small hotel in Southeast Asia 
But that's a lie, you know I've never even been there 
I tend to get real bold with my own head and try to make you game