It’s always the weekendnHere on the weekdaysnAnd I’m always wondering where I’ve beennnYou can try to save me, you can try to raise me, you can try to praise menI can kneel on your folded handsnWith my palms opened up to the groundnSo when I reach the surface I can catch my fallnnIt’s always the weekendnHere on the weekdaysnAnd I’m always wondering where I’ve beennnI’ve been bottled on the seashorenI was washed up at 24nI’ve been christened on the bathroom floornSprawled out on a towelndrying under the heat lampnDripping in the red lightnnIt’s always the weekendnHere on the weekdaysnAnd I’m always wondering where I’ve beennnYou can try to save me, you can try to raise me, you can try to praise menI can kneel on your folded handsnWith my palms opened up to the groundnSo when I reach the surface I can catch my fallnnIt’s always the weekendnHere on the weekdaysnAnd I’m always wondering where I’ve been