I want to keep Tuesdays in front of me.
I don't want to waste it.
I don't want to be the end of the song.
If you are the chorus.
I don't want to lose it.
Fighting for the phases that sew.
My body is still wasted.
And I can't restart it.
I'm waiting for you to call me out.
I want to live forever.
Between a Sunday and a Monday.
Singing along, loudly.