måndag... ingen rolig dag

It was one hundred degrees,
as we sat beneath a willow tree,
Who's tears didn't care,
they just hung in the air, and refused to fall, to fall.

And I knew I'd made horrible call,
And now the state line felt like the Berlin wall,
And there was no doubt about which side I was on.

Cause I built you a home in my heart,With rotten wood, it decayed from the start.

Puss