Fake Sunday

Verse 1

I woke up to a golden light across the floor

The calendar is lying, saying I should rest

But I can hear the ghosts of Monday at the door

The coffee’s getting colder in a cracked ceramic cup

I’m failing every single hypothetical test

The sun is just a spotlight and the curtain’s going up

The silence in the kitchen feels like something I deplore

Verse 2

You’re sitting on the sofa with a manufactured smile

The shadows on the carpet look a little bit like ink

I haven’t felt a holy moment in a long, long while

We’re acting out a scene where we have nothing left to lose

I’m standing on the edge and trying not to even blink

We’re dressing up in Sunday clothes and polishing our shoes

And stretching out the minutes just to stay here for a while

Chorus

It’s a fake, fake Sunday, painted on the wall

The clouds are made of cotton and the sky is falling down

I’m waiting for the heavy hand of destiny to call

We’re hiding in the nectar of a fabricated dream

The bells are ringing hollow in this quiet little town

I’m stitching up the fabric but I’m ripping at the seam

And praying that the gravity won't catch us when we fall

Bridge

The static on the television’s humming like a choir

A hollow kind of ritual we’re forced to undergo

I’m throwing all my memories inside a velvet fire

The afternoon is stretching like a wire pulled too tight

We’re putting on a pageant and we’re putting on a show

I’m reaching for the morning but I’m tethered to the night

And climbing up a ladder that is made of rusted wire

Chorus

It’s a fake, fake Sunday, painted on the wall

The clouds are made of cotton and the sky is falling down

I’m waiting for the heavy hand of destiny to call

We’re hiding in the nectar of a fabricated dream

The bells are ringing hollow in this quiet little town

I’m stitching up the fabric but I’m ripping at the seam

And praying that the gravity won't catch us when we fall

Outro

The sun is going down, but it was never really there

It’s just another Monday in a costume and a mask

I’m breathing in the toxins of the artificial air

I’m looking for an answer that I’m terrified to ask

It’s just a fake Sunday...

Yeah, it’s just a fake Sunday.