For me, for I agree


Wednesday dreams leave me feeling serene,

But Sunday,

That Sunday sun sings it’s rhythms like no one.

Flags and freedom, oh, a guy can dream.

And I feel serene.

And I feel serene.

Your tangible face, while yes, it drifts away,

I’m not apologetic, but I’m not apathetic.

And cream, it sits at the top, waiting for me.

And I feel redeemed.

Monday lifts me up on my heels, screaming scathing onerous drills.

I dream of quitting; a dream surreal,

And I feel surreal.

‘Cause quite lately I have been eating cake.

I have been both in possession of said cake, and I have been defiant in eating it as well.

I am blessed, can’t you tell?

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