Chain of Mondays

A few months after your nineteenth birthday, you'll pass a different milestone. You will have seen -- and survived -- a thousand Mondays.

And, if you're lucky, by most measures, the Mondays will just keep coming at you. Like clockwork. Um... Anyway.

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Some folks love Mondays.

They can't wait to get back to work and see what their friends did over the weekend, catch up on gossip, talk about TV, maybe even get in a couple of licks of work.

For me, Mondays have always been rugged. I could work up a sort of grim, stoic enthusiasm for biz world battle on the way in, behind the wheel in traffic, but that was about the best of it. From there it was all the clash of sword on shield, the cries of the wounded, and the roar of the crowd.

Not even on vacations. Not even when Monday was my day off. I just moped around thinking what a waste it was to have Monday as your day off instead of a cool day like like Friday. Even Thursday. Tuesday. You could walk around singing Tuesday Afternoon and go on long walks or to museums. You can't even go to museums on Mondays.

Anyhow.

It's a gorgeous, summery Monday as I write this and I'm in a really good mood because I just wrote today's song a few hours ago. (Consider the music/melody, especially, as a rough draft.) While I used to write a lot (I have versions of about 125 different songs posted in A Year of Songs so far), in recent years my songwriting had fallen to just a few songs a year.

So writing two songs, no matter how modest, in one week is pretty much grounds for frenzied celebration around here (Lemonade and soda anyone, Wild Cherry Pepsi?).

That said, as my own boss, I'm actually stealing time from myself writing this when I should be working. It is Monday, after all.

So, dude, I gotta go before I get busted. Later.


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a thousand mondays
that's just 19 years
put your head down
put yourself in gear

before you know it
the day is done
fall asleep
and there's another one

chain of mondays
wrapped round my life
chain of mondays
until the day I die

I'm good at what I do
but what I do is dumb
pushing things around
all day long

what's it all for
don't ask me
i'm just a well-worn gear
in the big machine

chain of mondays...

don't take off my shackles
i don't want to be free
cause theres nowhere to go
and no one to be

been at the grindstone
for so damn long
there's nothing much left
except this song:

chain of mondays...

(C)2006, TK Major