Living For Sundays.
Sunday morning. Songs have been written about it.
“It’s just a restless feeling by my side” is the only line to ever ring true.
Eating wasn’t easy this morning. Holding it down is proving even harder.
That’s the gun. Here’s the hole shot. Mouth is tasting like a battery.
Wishing the legs had battery power. This sucks. One more dig. This is over.
Sunday was Epic.