come home

Sunday night
and I'm so alone
I know what's comin' over
the telephone
You and me
we have an original thing
but I can feel
a reckoning
It's you
holding on to someone else
It's me
who can't let go of yesterday

Sunday night
and it feels so wrong
I don't know what's coming next
but you'd better
find yourself a ride home
You and me
hold on so tight
that we can no longer feel
the pounding in our veins
can no longer see
the storm for the rain
Shadow me
shackle me
tear me asunder
wear me down
wear me thin
and fashionably

Sunday night
and you're nowhere in sight
what is it playing
on your television?
I'd like to know
so many things
but I'm out here dying
and lying to myself
saying things like
"tomorrow is another day"
and "when you take the hit, you lose the fear"
Sometimes I think
someone is writing my script
but they cast the wrong man

In case you forgot
it's Sunday night
and the telephone is silent
that's okay
Monday will be here soon
we all forget the night
with the first brutal
rays of sunlight
Tomorrow is another day
but I'm still waiting
for your homesick voice
to tell me what I want to hear.