The Sunday Song

No one's gonna call
No one’s gonna call today
I can't do nothing wrong
Or anything at all
It's lonely at the top
It’s lonely at the bottom of the totem pole

No one's gonna come
No one's gonna come around
There's nothing to be done
And nothing makes a sound
I'm tired as a whale
Drifting from a river bed to higher ground

Sleepy like a boon
Sundry like a bang
I'm hurting like a uniform
And stupid as a lamb

No one's gonna call
No one's gonna come around
Tipsy like a jukebox
Topsy like a gin
I’m tortured like a microphone
And happy as a sin

No one’s gonna call
No one's gonna come around
No one’s gonna call
No one's gonna come around