Sunday Morning Chemo Down

Well I woke up Sunday morning,
With no way to move my mouth that didn't hurt..
The 5FU I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had some more for dessert.
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes,
And found my hair inside my shirt.
Then I dropped my guts and threw my guts,
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I fried my brain the night before,
On cisplatin and drugs that I'd been taken.
And now I can't remember, did I take two?
Or was it three? Am I mistaken?
Then I crossed the empty street,
And caught the sunday smell of someone frying bacon.
And it took me back to someplace,
That I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way.

On a sunday morning downer,
Feeling crap the whole weekend.
Cause there's something in a sunday,
That makes the chemo worse again.
And there's nothing short of dying,
Half as lonesome as the sound,
As the pump on my hip clickin',
sunday morning chemo down!


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