| It was a cloudy morning in Oulundi
|
| I could see the rain in your eye
|
| I was lookin' for a word to somehow make it right
|
| But the only word I found was goodbye
|
| I watched you from the doorway walkin' over the hill
|
| Your hand shadow wavin'
|
| Wavin' in the air and me saying he’ll be back
|
| He’ll be back over and over like a prayer
|
| Monday to Monday, scratching in the gold dust
|
| You were so far so far away
|
| Monday, Monday sometimes I’m forgettin'
|
| The memory of your sweet face slips away
|
| Monday to Monday but he’ll be home
|
| Sometime I’ll be home
|
| It’s terrible-terrible loving you from so far
|
| Our flower struggling in the desert sand
|
| Watered with the dry words on scraps of paper
|
| Written by a stranger’s hand
|
| But one day our home will green again
|
| And our babies they will play under the Jacaranda tree
|
| You and I will be loving close, close
|
| A day will come when we’ll be free
|
| Monday to Monday a mile down in the darkness
|
| Prayin', prayin' to Morena
|
| Monday to Monday, I can’t ride on the blue train
|
| Watching for you by the roadside
|
| Monday to Monday I’m fighting with the feeling
|
| So far, so far, so far away
|
| But I’ll be home someday
|
| He’ll be coming home
|
| Monday to Monday a way down in the darkness
|
| Praying praying to Morena
|
| Monday to Monday, mina neizobuya
|
| Monday to Monday thinking on your sweet eyes
|
| Thinking, thinking on your strong hands
|
| Monday to Monday, time she sure go slowly
|
| Monday to Monday, can’t ride, ride on the blue train
|
| Monday to Monday, one day I’ll be coming home
|
| Monday to Monday, hold on to yesterday |