it was a tuesday morn in NovembernI slept at your house the night beforenwe couldn't wait to get up to go forna big breakfast in an old fashioned dinerna full meal, six coffee refills laternwe both have to be at work in an hournlet's call in sick I suggest to hernI'll call your boss and tell her that you're undernthe weather, you'll call mine, and you'll tell hernthat i'm very sick and thatnyou're my mothernnso we walk down the streetnlooking for a phone booth wenrehearse what we're going to saynso that we can have this daynaway...nnwe find a phone booth with room for twoni call your boss and i don't speak the truthnthey're pretty mad about you but they'll get throughnyou call my work in my mother's voicenthey believe younnand it starts to rain outsidenin our phone booth we hidenit doesn't let up until 5nsquished together we don't mindnwe don't mind...