A Month Of Sundays by Sick Of It All
Two o'clock on a Sunday afternoon
Hop on the 7 train, we know just what to do
Switch at Jackson Heights for the F downtown
When we hit the Bowery, we're ready to explode
Time - never seemed to cross our minds
Never thought that this would end
Change - after all was said and done
We would never be the same
Rain or shine, didn't mean a thing
Came for the friendly faces and to blow off steam
Big Charlie, Tommy Rat, Brendan's on the door
Hanging with Johnny Stiff, watching Murphy's Law
Time - like a thief in the night
Blink your eyes and it's gone
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