Published
I can’t be there on Monday,
And Tuesday’s not that great.
Wednesday I’ve got to stay inside,
And Thursday I’d be late.
Friday’s for the friends,
Saturday’s filled with chores,
And when it comes to Sunday
All I do is snore.
There is not a day I’d find
I’d want to do that thing—
Not only ’cause my schedule’s bad’,
But it’s not my kind of fling.
So catch me on a good day,
And maybe I’ll accept,
Or maybe I’ll just find new words,
An excuse I haven’t yet.
It’s not that you’re the problem,
It’s the panic in my head.
But when it comes to going out,
It’s all I really dread.
Oh, I’ve got things on Monday,
The cycle starts again;
Honestly, I’ll tell you straight,
I’d rather just be dead.
—Connor