Bloody Sunday

Sunday, sunday, you fucking bore
Go on and get rammed like a whore
With minutes to last throughout the ages
But nothing new to report in the pages

Sunday, sunday, you're such a bitch
Somewhere there has to be a fucking glitch
With fake smiles and prayers all given
A nail through your skull should be driven

Sunday, oh sunday, you're a piece of shit
You're the death day of reason and wit
With a body that aches and eyes that flutter
Making even a grown man stutter

Sunday, bloody sunday, you're a horrible thing
Making peoples brains fly off on the lie fuelled wing
Sunday, sunday, you never have a lot to say
Oh shit I forgot... Tomorrow is monday...