I hate your guts on Sunday
No other day of the week
I hate your guts on Sunday
But Monday morning you look so sweet
I hate your guts on Sunday
And I'm not even sure why
'Cause I love your guts on Friday night

You gotta go to work while I stay here
Just sitting and scratching in my underwear
Hating you on Sunday really only means I care

I hate your guts on Sunday
And I don't know what to do
Monday's the catalyst for
For readjusting my attitude
I hate your guts on Sunday
I hate my own guts as well
But every other day, I think you're swell

Sunday always feels like a funeral
Like setting the alarm to be on time for school
But don't sweat, and don't forget
That every other day, I think you're totally cool

I hate your guts (I hate your guts)
I hate your guts (I hate your guts)
I hate your guts, I hate your guts
I hate your guts (I hate your guts)
I hate your guts (I hate your guts)
I hate your guts, I hate your guts