Everyday Is Like Sunday
Morrissey Lyrics
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Back to the bench where your clothes were stolen
This is the coastal town
That they forgot to close down
Armageddon, come Armageddon
Come, Armageddon, come
Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Hide on the promenade, etch a postcard
"How I dearly wish I was not here"
In the seaside town
That they forgot to bomb
Come, come, come, nuclear bomb
Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Trudging back over pebbles and sand
And a strange dust lands on your hands
And on your face
On your face
On your face
On your face
Everyday is like Sunday
"Win yourself a cheap tray"
Share some greased tea with me
Everyday is silent and grey
The opening lines of Morrissey's "Everyday is Like Sunday" commence this mournful yet dreamy lamentation about a seaside town that once offered pleasures, but now is abandoned, sorrowful, and dull. The first verse describes a dreary and hopeless outskirt, a forgotten coastal town with nothing to fuel its existence anymore. Morrissey aims to convey a city in its death-throes, where the exhilaration of life has disappeared, leaving only a desolate atmosphere. In essence, he equates the town's quiet streets and somber buildings with an everlasting Sunday, a day of rest, which, in this instance, reflects a city where all has come to a standstill.
Line by Line Meaning
Trudging slowly over wet sand
Walking slowly on the wet sand
Back to the bench where your clothes were stolen
Returning to the bench where your clothes got stolen
This is the coastal town
The town situated on the coast
That they forgot to close down
That they did not shut down the town
Armageddon, come Armageddon
A reference to the end of the world
Come, Armageddon, come
Inviting the end of the world
Everyday is like Sunday
Every day is monotonous
Everyday is silent and grey
Every day is dull and colorless
Hide on the promenade, etch a postcard
Hiding on the walkway near the beach and writing a postcard
"How I dearly wish I was not here"
Expressing a strong desire to be somewhere else
In the seaside town
In the town located near the sea
That they forgot to bomb
That was not targeted during a bombing
Come, come, come, nuclear bomb
Inviting the explosion caused by a nuclear bomb
Trudging back over pebbles and sand
Walking back over pebbles and sand
And a strange dust lands on your hands
Dust covering the hands
And on your face
Dust also covers the face
On your face
Emphasizing the dust accumulating on the face
On your face
Again emphasizing the dust on the face
Everyday is like Sunday
Repeating the monotony of each day
"Win yourself a cheap tray"
An odd statement that could refer to a prize in a competition or a product for sale
Share some greased tea with me
An invitation to share a beverage that is likely not desirable
Everyday is silent and grey
Repeating the dullness and lack of color of each day
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Written by: Stephen Street, Steven Morrissey
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
@Tool98
Trudging slowly over wet sand
Back to the bench
Where your clothes were stolen
This is the coastal town
That they forgot to close down
Armageddon, come Armageddon
Come, Armageddon, come
Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Hide on the promenade
Etch a postcard
How I dearly wish I was not here
In the seaside town
That they forgot to bomb
Come, come, come, nuclear bomb
Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Trudging back over pebbles and sand
And a strange dust lands on your hands
And on your face
On your face
On your face
On your face
Everyday is like Sunday
Win yourself a cheap tray
Share some greased tea with me
Everyday is silent and grey
@averoc
Trudging slowly over wet sand
Back to the bench where your clothes were stolen
This is the coastal town
That they forgot to close down
Armageddon, come Armageddon!
Come, Armageddon! Come!
Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Hide on the promenade
Etch a postcard :
"How I Dearly Wish I Was Not Here"
In the seaside town
That they forgot to bomb
Come, come, come, nuclear bomb
Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Trudging back over pebbles and sand
And a strange dust lands on your hands
(And on your face)
(On your face)
(On your face)
(On your face)
Everyday is like Sunday
"Win yourself a cheap tray"
Share some greased tea with me
Everyday is silent and grey
@danielalbinati
"Everyday is like Sunday" has never made as much sense as now.
@MrLetmein2011
We might listen to Panic in a different light too ;)
@stereogrIm
Thats why im here. Isolation by joy division next. :)
@danielalbinati
@@stereogrIm Isolation is better than Transmission!
@rexgeorg7324
YEEP !!!!
@larimerbixby4853
Poesy. Spirit unrivaled. Cannot tell someone how much this song means to me..
@montyf2165
Sundays in the 80s when all the shops were shut, films and religious programmes on the TV. It could be silent and grey but I'd go back in a heartbeat.
@JPRibner
Me and you both, Monty.
@Simonm9020
Yep, 100%
@JaredLogan-jk2bu
In a heartbeat