Texty: Barbara Dickson. Blood Brothers. Sunday Afternoon/my Friend.

No kids out on the street today,
We could be livin' on the moon.
Maybe everybody's packed their bags an' moved away,
It's gonna be a long, long, long Sunday afternoon.

Just killin' time an' kickin' cans around,
Try to remember jokes I knew
I tell them to myself
But they're not funny since I found
It's gonna be a long, long, long Sunday afternoon

My best friend always had sweets t'share,
He Knew all the words in the dictionary.
I wish that I could be like,
Wear clean clothes, talk properly like,
Do sums an' history like my friend.

My best friend he could swear like a soldier
You'd laugh 'til y' died at the stories he told you
His clothes were untidy from Monday to Friday

I wish that I could be like
Kick a ball and climb a tree like
Run around with dirty knees like
My Friend, my friend

Feels like everybody stayed in bed
Or maybe I woke up too soon.
Am I the last survivor,
Is everybody dead?
On this long, long, long Sunday afternoon,
Sunday afternoon