Lletres: Art Brut. Late Sunday Evening.

Late, Sunday evening
I only just feel like eating
Am I feeling unwell
For what I've done, or drunk
Or for someone might tell

I'm gonna find it hard to sleep tonight
I'm gonna find it hard to sleep

There's nothing that's been done that can't be undone
You were sick, now you're better
There's work to be done

There's nothing that's been done that can't be
undone
You are sick, now you're better
There's work to be done

Everything has been shown to me,
With only a magazine for company
Answers in the problem pages
To problems I've been having for ages

Late, Sunday evening
There's no way I'm gonna be sleeping
Am I feeling unwell
For what I've done, or drunk
Or for someone might tell

I'm gonna find it hard to sleep

There's nothing that's been done that can't be undone
You were sick, now you're better
There's work to be done

When I feel my friends have been conspiring against me
I break into their bedrooms and write in their diaries

There's nothing that's been done that can't be undone
You were sick, now you're better
There's work to be done

Everything's gonna be alright
I'm gonna find it hard to sleep tonight

Everything's gonna be alright but I'm,
I'm gonna find it hard to sleep tonight

Everything's gonna be alright but I'm,
I'm gonna find it hard to sleep tonight

Phone later if you like 'cause
I'm gonna find it hard to sleep tonight