Trudging slowly over wet sand
Back to the bench where your clothes were stolen
This is the coastal town
That they forgot to close down
Armageddon, come Armageddon
Come, Armageddon, come

Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey

Hide on the promenade, etch a postcard
"How I dearly wish I was not here"
In the seaside town
That they forgot to bomb
Come, come, come, nuclear bomb

Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey

Trudging back over pebbles and sand
And a strange dust lands on your hands
And on your face
On your face
On your face
On your face

Everyday is like Sunday
"Win yourself a cheap tray"
Share some greased tea with me
Everyday is silent and grey

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Stephen Street, Steven Morrissey