Sundays are for existing And wondering why you do Putting your plans to question Giving up one or two Even worse when you're on the verge Of calling everything quits You just found yourself the perfect Excuse for a goodbye kiss I wait on a made-up future In which I'll become my dreams The kingdom that knows no battles No battles involving me Only then will I say my name And write all my songs I'll finally take a picture That won't make me bite my tongue Ooh, oh, ooh, oh I'm tired of missing people I wonder if I am missed Once again on the train line The chore of a goodbye kiss Can't see my friends, can't make amends Not much left of both So I just go through my days Like knife through a honeycomb