Sunday evening, it's time to sleep
Monday starts another week
Tuesday I am out with a swing
Hard at work doing my thing,
Wednesday I am working late
Carrying bricks for a house to make.
On this ladder climbing high
When I come down I'll take a break ,
I hope this day will soon pass by
Those building bricks just multiply,
Wow! Thursday now is getting near
One more night then Friday's here
I am thinking of that ice cold beer
Raising a glass giving a cheer,
I hope this day will soon fly by
On Friday night's my mouth gets dry
When in the pub I put things right
Away with the fairies all of the night
Monday morning it will keep
Then off to work for another week,
For now I am in this pub so nice
It's my Friday night in paradise

Listen to the sound of wolves
And zombies who are often cruel
Vultures hovering, seeking flesh
Must keep on the move, no time to rest.
All of this for an adventurous trip
Nobody warned about the risk
Or gave a clue of what lay ahead
For fear out there is one of dread
Running forward no looking back
One false move could be the last.
Footsteps approaching, something is near
Shaking the branches causing fear.
The echoing sound of haunting cries
That awful feeling of peering eyes
Now this is the end, no more to be
Watching horror movies on my TV
That is all enough has been said
I am tired now, so I am off too bed.

Hi there all you youthful souls
Chase your dreams, reach your goals
Just remember I am always here
So far away yet so very near.

So go your way, do your thing
But if you get lost give me a ring
I am here any time of day
I will listen to what you say.

The days of youth are on your side
But the coming years will pass you by
So carry on, live your life
I hope one day you see the light.

This is your time, you have your space
Your chance is here don't hesitate
Life on this earth can be unkind
And that's one thing you'll find out in time.

I have had my say, I will say no more
It's down to you so please explore
Carry on, and do your thing
But if you get lost give me a ring.

Took me to the wrong end of the Mississippi
Blown north from the whistling blues
Dreamt that sweet sound of saxophones
Coloring St. Claude Avenue

Banana leaves melted into evergreens
Where the swamps finally ran cold
Through the mountain ranges of the lakes, and banjos of the plains
Where the countryside grew quiet and old

I grew up on the wrong end of the Mississippi
But now I’m taking that southbound train
Oh honey don’t ask me how I’ve been
It’s a restless, lonesome pain