Before I get tired, I'll write my diary
You could say it has been a day of rest
Well, it's Sunday, after all, used to be
That in the old days, told by God and Christ
But we always played hard, we didn't waste
Precious weekend time out of school, although
In later school days the evening was passed
At the dinner table struggling to do
Homework while TV sounds cruelly slipped through
The yellow sliding doors. Adults, did they
Have it harder than us kids? I would guess
Not. Childhood's hard precisely because you
Have no choice, can't escape from your duty
Which you don't choose, can't see yet, or resist
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