From the recording As You Believed
Lyrics
It’s Monday, it’s washday, we’ll start our routineAs I stand before you, prepared to come cleanAnd it’s hard work, our hands red from the wringing,Hauled up from the river, hung out to dry, swinging alone…By Tuesday we’re pressing ahead anywayThe steam, the caressing, our fears smoothed away.If we linger too long over one last goodbye,I could be scorched by the look in your eye.On Wednesday we’ll have seenSuch tears in the fabric, the loose gaping seam.We’re sewing back buttons torn off in our hasteImpermanent joining, we’ve only to baste.To market, to market, on Thursdays we buy,We pay what they ask and we don’t question why.For restocking shelves is a gesture of trust,Refilling canisters, spilling gold dust.Come Friday we’ll clean up the mess that we’ve made.Order for chaos, the usual tradeFor Saturday’s kneading and rising, warm fragrant decay.On Sunday we’ll lay it to rest. Stop work and agree that we gave it our best.Laid on with a trowel, or stitched on a towel,Our days are blessed. Our days are blessed.