Sunday Feels Like The End

Fourty-five, driving home
On a Sunday afternoon
The weekend's over all too soon
The weather's great, I don't know why
Clouds are gathering in my sky
While you're so over the moon

Slowly, I let out a sigh
I know I felt this way before
Many a time
But endurance tests won't help
So here am I, wondering:

What am I supposed to do
When Sunday feels like the end?
Driving home with you in the sun
There's nobody who can understand
That I find it hard
To turn a close into a start
To greet the end as a friend

Fourty-nine, longer now
Where they've cut the forest down
I don't know where I stand
Remember days when we were stuck
With 50 miles behind a truck
On the road to my best friend

O how I dreaded the time
When we had to go back home
Every time
But self-pity won't help
So here am I

Wondering why my sunday feeling
Is even stronger than before
Maybe it's because I am reminded that
We're not kids anymore
And if I mutter something
Under my breath, it's not you
It's just the motions I go through

What am I supposed to do
When Sunday feels like the end?
Driving home with you in the sun
There's nobody who can understand
That I find it hard
To turn a close into a start
To greet the end as a friend