Sunday’s fading fast, the night begins to fall,
Tomorrow’s creeping in, I can hear the wake-up call.
The weekend’s like a dream, but it’s slipping through my hands,
Reality’s a weight, it’s a burden on my plans.
I hate Monday, the clock won’t lie,
Pulling me back to the daily grind.
The freedom’s gone, just a memory,
I hate Monday, it’s my enemy.
Coffee’s brewing strong, but it can’t wake my soul,
The routine’s on repeat, it’s taking its toll.
I long for Friday nights, where I can breathe again,
But here I am, just counting down the days till then.
I hate Monday, the clock won’t lie,
Pulling me back to the daily grind.
The freedom’s gone, just a memory,
I hate Monday, it’s my enemy.
Each tick of the clock, each turn of the page,
Trapped in this cycle, I’m stuck in this cage.
But I’ll keep pushing on, through the gray and the blues,
Until the weekend comes, and I break loose.
I hate Monday, the clock won’t lie,
Pulling me back to the daily grind.
The freedom’s gone, just a memory,
I hate Monday, it’s my enemy.
But Friday will come, and I’ll find my way,
Through the fog of work and the endless days.
Until then, I’ll just grit my teeth and say,
I hate Monday, but I’ll be okay.