To an even pace where nothing moves,
Except the pressure from a funky Saturday
Dropping like bricks on my head;
Or over the milkyway.
Starlit electric beams had only just touched me,
I must have dreamt myself astray.
The only milkyway I have is in the middle of the day.
Somedays are better than somedays.
Good Sundays are better than somedays;
Today I'd even take a bad Monday.
'Cause this Sunday's a pure pressure inside of me.
Danced till my feet were blue.
To erase the thoughts, I just remember you.
Tears lost in the turn of the years.
Return on days like this,
Kissing in the sunrays.
I knew that it was Sunday,
'Cause my memory's like a blueprint in my head.
(and the little rap says)
Give me grits and eggs, give me ham and bacon,
And a pancake with some maple syrup,
'Cause it is Sunday.
(god knows what the dogs are saying)
We made it through... maybe.
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
"Somedays" as written by Geoffrey Paul Barrow Bill Withers
Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
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