In regards to the meaning of this song:
Before a live performance on the EP Five Stories Falling, Geoff states “It’s about the last time I went to visit my grandmother in Columbus, and I saw that she was dying and it was the last time I was going to see her. It is about realizing how young you are, but how quickly you can go.”
That’s the thing about Geoff and his sublime poetry, you think it’s about one thing, but really it’s about something entirely different. But the lyrics are still universal and omnipresent, ubiquitous, even. So relatable. That’s one thing I love about this band. I also love their live performances, raw energy and Geoff’s beautiful, imperfectly perfect vocals. His voice soothes my aching soul.
Trudging slowly over wet sand
Back to the bench where your clothes were stolen
This is the coastal town
That they forgot to close down
Armageddon, come Armageddon
Come, Armageddon, come
Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Hide on the promenade, etch a postcard
"How I dearly wish I was not here"
In the seaside town
That they forgot to bomb
Come, come, come, nuclear bomb
Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Trudging back over pebbles and sand
And a strange dust lands on your hands
And on your face
On your face
On your face
On your face
Everyday is like Sunday
"Win yourself a cheap tray"
Share some greased tea with me
Everyday is silent and grey
Back to the bench where your clothes were stolen
This is the coastal town
That they forgot to close down
Armageddon, come Armageddon
Come, Armageddon, come
Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Hide on the promenade, etch a postcard
"How I dearly wish I was not here"
In the seaside town
That they forgot to bomb
Come, come, come, nuclear bomb
Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Trudging back over pebbles and sand
And a strange dust lands on your hands
And on your face
On your face
On your face
On your face
Everyday is like Sunday
"Win yourself a cheap tray"
Share some greased tea with me
Everyday is silent and grey
Lyrics submitted by weezerific:cutlery
Everyday Is Like Sunday Lyrics as written by Steven Morrissey Stephen Street
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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I have to disagree with comments about how this describes the futility of life. It beautifully details the dullness of the many gone to seed British seaside towns. The song describes Whitstable so perfectly it made me laugh out loud when I first heard it.
Nobody's mentioned that this, like so many of Morrissey's songs is funny... "trudging back to the bench where your clothes were stolen" is a scene from a sitcom! Calling for the bombing of a town because it's boring is self-consciously and hilariously adolescent. I have no idea what greased tea and strange dust is about but wouldn't be surprised if there were some literary innuendo there.
On the subject of which, the "come nuclear bombs" line is an obvious reference to John Betjeman's "Slough": "Come, friendly bombs and fall on Slough" but lacks its snobbishness. Morrissey admirers might like to wonder if this little poem didn't influence him just as much as Wilde: cdr.stanford.edu/intuition/Slough.html