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


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.

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Everyday Is Like Sunday song meanings
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    @Waterfall123 this is absolutely the correct interpretation. Anyone who's been to a small coastal town in northern England knows exactly what this song is about. The speaker is comparing the greyness of everything to the typical weather in these places (which is also very overcast and grey). He's saying it infects everything including people living there. That's what the strange dust is.

    He's saying everything is slow, no one is going anywhere. The greatest prospect in this place is to "win yourself a cheap tray," from a from an unimpressive fish and chips with greasy food and bad tea. He calls it grease tea.

    Some lyrics are a lot less metaphorical than many commenters here realize. The speaker truly hates the town and wishes it would get bombed into oblivion.

    A love how people "look into the meaning behind the words" and in the process, lose the meaning OF the words. Some of the interpretations here are just way off.

    atomic1067on May 29, 2022   Link

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