No Kids I Love The Weekend
When the time comes to let you all in, I won't need saxophones, won't need violins, to plot the mood, to play me out, you'll all know just what I'm talking about.
And when the time comes, you'll all gather 'round, and I'll be so happy, I'll be rocking to-and-fro on the liip of a well, telling all my stories.
Like at the end, with no children, no partner and no friends, when I can still hear the sounds from the schoolyard 'round the bend.
And I love the weekend, and I love the creaking, that this house makes when it buckles, when a hailstorm breaks I say uncle, that's why I'm a believer.
And well thank you, for making it known, that my life's work, means nothing to no one, and so it goes, so I'm walking home, with a lighter step than ever.
At the end, I realize how much easier this all would have been, oh, if I cared.
And I love the weekend, and I love the creaking, that this house makes when it buckles, when a hailstorm breaks I say uncle, that's why I'm a believer.
