Peculiar Feelin'

Wrong side of my bed
Is how I fell out today
Peculiar feeling in the air
Number seven’s on its head
Is what the March calendar said
And the rain drenched street outside is crying
It’s the end, it’s the limit
Can’t get it straight, oh no
Every hour, every minute
I’m gonna be too late
Flat tyre on my car
Call a cab down at the bar
Cold and windy waiting till it comes
It’s the end, it’s the limit
Can’t get it straight, oh no
Every hour, every minute
I’m gonna be too late
Had enough, off home again
Back to bed at half past ten
Sleep and dram till tomorrow’s here, till then
Sleep and dram till tomorrow’s here, till then
Sleep and dream till tomorrow’s here, till then