Sunday Song Lyric (On Monday):

This lyric’s a bit late as yesterday was a bit hectic. In that vein, I thought it was about time to post a song by The Police. Not a Sting song, mind you — there’ll be a time for that another Sunday — but a Stewart Copeland riff on a crazy day: On Any Other Day. My day was hectic, mind you, but nothing like this:

There’s a house on my street
And it looks real neat
I’m the chap who lives in it
There’s a tree on the sidewalk
There’s a car by the door
I’ll go for a drive in it
And when the wombat comes
He will find me gone
He’ll look for a place to sit

My wife has burned the scrambled eggs
The dog just bit my leg
My teenage daughter ran away
My fine young son has turned out gay

Cut off my fingers in the door of my car
How could I do it?
My wife is proud to tell me
Of her love affairs
How could she do this to me?

My wife has burned the scrambled eggs
The dog just bit my leg
My teenage daughter ran away
My fine young son has turned out gay
And it would be O.K. on any other day
And it would be O.K. on any other day

Throw down the morning papers
And spill my tea
I don’t know what’s wrong with me
The cups and plates are in a conspiracy
I’m covered in misery

My wife has burned the scrambled eggs
The dog just bit my leg
My teenage daughter ran away
My fine young son has turned out gay
And it would be O.K. on any other day
And it would be O.K. on any other day
And it would be O.K. on any other day
And it would be O.K. on any other day

A few readers have taken me to task for omitting one source of the above song’s irony: During the final chorus, children’s voices can be heard singing Happy Birthday to their daddy. It was a significant omission, especially for those not familiar with the song.