It’s always the weekend
Here on the weekdays
And I’m always wondering where I’ve been

You can try to save me, you can try to raise me, you can try to praise me
I can kneel on your folded hands
With my palms opened up to the ground
So when I reach the surface I can catch my fall

I’ve been bottled on the seashore
I was washed up at 24
I’ve been christened on the bathroom floor
Sprawled out on a towel, drying
under the heat lamp
Dripping in the red light

It’s always the weekend
Here on the weekdays
And I’m always wondering where I’ve been