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Chris Pureka
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Cabin Fever
Cabin fever, Sunday blues.
Lying on the kitchen floor.
Wishing you might come around and lift me up,
cause I'm all out of good ideas...
And I've been wondering if I could have kept you in a jar,
kept the lid on for good.
'Cause I know we can't go back,
or keep time from running.
And I'm all out of good ideas,
but you know that honey...
It's a sorry kind of summer,
but I know a thing or two about duck and cover,
cut and run.
And I'm longing to get rolling with the band,
wide open sea,
back to what I need...
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Chart a course for somewhere I know I can disappear.
I'm trading places with the man in the morning paper.
'Cause I know we can't go back,
can't keep time from running.
And I'm all out of good ideas,
but you know that, honey...
It's a sorry kind of summer,
but I know a thing or two about duck and cover,
cut and run.
And I'm longing to get rolling with the band,
wide open sea,
back to what I need...
Cabin fever Sunday blues...
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