It is Friday.
If you had just a minute to breathe
And they granted you one final wish
Would you ask for something like another chance
Or something similar as this
Don't worry too much, it'll happen to you
As sure as your sorrows or joys
And the thing that disturbs you is only the sound
Of the low spark of high-heeled boys
Yeah, it is that kind of day. I am sitting in the middle of Traffic. Not a car in sight.
How is your day going?