I don't like that there's no mail on Sunday's.
Every day you go to your mailbox
Finding magazines and letters and everything in between.
But on Sunday's, you forget that it's Sunday.
You go to your mailbox
Expecting to find a bill or a birthday card
But you find nothing
Kind of like you.
I came home to you every day
Finding new things to discuss and laugh about and everything in between
And then one day I came home to find nothing
I was empty, like the mailbox.
Now every day is like Sunday's for me
I forget that you're gone and still expect to find you waiting for me
I receive nothing from you
Not even a bill or a birthday card.