Every Monday morning  I wake with your bone in my throat  Six and barely dawning  We're grabing your hat and coat  Not so much as a goodbye  Tears run down my face  End up in my coffee  Bitter aftertaste  It's easy on the weekend  We can try and pretend  It's not so  That you have to go  Stainless reputation  People you want to protect  Swim in prevarication  Drown me in neglect  There's no room in my closet  It barely fits my clothes  Man you've gone and lost it  If you think nobody knows  We relay on the weekend  Backstroke, to the deep end  We both know, which way you go-  How could you put a man in your mouth?  Turn around, spit him out  When we're in public  Try and shirk the subject  When we touch in private  You seem to really like it  It's sleazy after weekends they way you  Try and pretend  You don't know which way you go-  I'd rather be the queen of spades  Than be the star in your sick charade.    B.Smith/L.Whitsel/P.Allgood-BMI  (c)2009 All Rights Reserved.    these lyrics are submitted by Artist_Info