Lo que se me ocurra

Outside it's whatever they want it to be
Here I'll stay
I won't play along anymore

I'm alone, but it's Sunday
Come if you want
I'll make myself company
If you can't or won't

I'm sad, but it's Sunday
Full of chores, musts
I'm beyond, above, outside
Castles in my head
On the sand
Made of sand

In bed it's Sunday
And my castles, my solitude, my recklessness
are forever bound
To the sheets

Tomorrow it's Monday and they'll all be there, waiting for me