It's Monday morning and the coffee's on the brill   The sun's a warning, sending signals to the moon   I rise and fall in my accustomed rusted habits   I cant believe myself   And I can hardly stand it anymore      It's Tuesday morning   I file my nails and wash my hair   You're still sleeping like I'm hardly even there   The smell of tangerines are floating through the window   I wonder if someday I'll turn into your widow or your maid      It's Wednesday morning   I think you may have tried to cheat   I smell the perfume on the inside of your sleeve   I must admit I know I can be uite obsessive   I get dramatic and I'm ready to confess it to the lord      It's Thursday morning   I could be pregnant; could be bored   I want to love you   I want to be the staple sword   We might be out of soap or real communication   And all the tricks my little brain plays on my nerves   They need to end      It's Friday morning   Thank god the weekend's almost here   Let's get some breakfast and get far away from here   So I can tell you that I am a secret agent   Who's stationed in a small hotel in Southeast Asia   But that's a lie, you know I've never even been there   I tend to get real bored with my own head and try to make you care.