I miss you most on Sundays
In the evenings
In the evenings.

When I face the week alone in a panic
And I hate it
And I’m fading.

‘Cause I’ve lost a bit of time
I ought to have spent giving.
And I could miss my life
Working over living.

The hour’s late and I should really hit those books
But they’ll be here tomorrow.
What I should really do is listen for a while
To understand your sorrow.

Tell me, tell me sister
What do you believe in?
Tell me, tell me
But do not speak from reason.

Tell me, tell me sister
What do you believe in?
Tell me, tell me
But do not speak from reason.
We only take these jobs
Out of fear of getting lost.
I think we only write these books
Because we’re afraid to talk.

Wait up for me I bed a little longer
I’ve one more song to write
And then I
Will turn out
The light.

When I moved west to the East Bay
The sun came constant for 40 days.
Over time, I tired of smiles
Fashioned to fit the rays.
Man, I was made for darker days.

Uncertainty is never far away
You can read it
In the desperate minds of men.
Who hide their concern
In the pews and lecterns
‘Til dark days come for them.

Man, I was made for darker days
Oh-ha, I was made for darker days.

Everything is serious to me
I see the consequence in small things.
You’ll ignore me, denounce me
And you’ll frown when I speak.
But wait for the trembling of a leaf.
I’m feeling out infinity.

I only want to be of use.
To protect a people or an idea.
I know there’s a time to amuse
But one day these fortunes’ll disappear.

When the festivities fade
With the declining terms of trade
I’ll make sense
For I was made for darker days.

Maybe I can explain
My unhappiness away
If I believe
I was made
For darker days.

Man, I was made for darker days
Oh-ha, I was made for darker days.