Working on a Sunday night
Something didn't go right
When you get to being my age you shouldn't be wearing a name tag
Now I work in the kitchen
And you wait the tables
Maybe together we'll be able to recover from the choices we've made
Working the Sunday split shift
My grill gets hot. You don't care about your tips
All our friends played it safe and are home watching TV with kids and a place
Now you loved to paint since your first day in school
But a couple people out there so better than you
I was gonna write short fiction stories
Now I'm writing bad checks just to pay for the groceries
It was funner when we were younger
Nothing could stand in our way
Were the other better or were they just luckier
Woulda. Coulda. Shoulda.
Well that ain't gonna get the rent paid
Working on Sunday night the crowd is always kinda light
Just enough customers to keep you cussing
Now my parents said go on and take your stand
But don't be to proud to have a back up plan
I realize now as I mop up this floor
I should have thought about that stuff a little bit more
It was funner when we were younger
Nothing could stand in our way
Were the other better or were they just luckier
Woulda. Coulda. Shoulda.
Well that ain't gonna get the rent paid
You could paint pictures for me
And I'll write stories for you
And we'll lay around the apartment and drink to the dreams that never came true
You could be my Plan B Baby
I will be your Fall Back Man
Next time you're getting scared and lonely
Remember you're not the only one working on a Sunday night