Tom Buffalo Sunday Night
Sunday night and now I know How the night can pass slow All kinds of ugly outside that's right And I'm all alone tonight Distant highway din Leaky roof my doubt drips in And as the streetlights and my prospects dim She turns in bed and thinks of him Where's the solace you can find? Is it at the bottom of your mind? My friends pushed me from behind I feel so empty I could die A ladder to the edge Hangover throbs inside my head And all the stupid things I've ever said Now make me wish that I was dead It's nighttime, Greenwich Mean time A man puts on a detour sign And the waterfalls of regret Unleash in a torrent of cold sweat © 1994 Scrawny Music, BMI