song profile

THE PROMISE OF FRIDAY NIGHT
© 2012 by Mike T. Lewis/Inside Edge Music Publishing (ASCAP)         	
								
In the canyons of Manhattan
The winter sun begins to rise
Busted bottles in the alleys
Bundled papers no one buys

And your shining expectations
Flicker out like neon lights
Sunday morning always breaks
The promise of Friday night

Like a tumbleweed in Texas
Like a grain of dirt or sand
You drift along the sidewalk
At the mercy of the wind

And hope’s illumination
Seems as far as Jersey lights
Sunday morning always breaks
The promise of Friday night

You find yourself on a lost weekend    
In the cold and damp alone again    
Hummin’ Desperado like a prayer you send    
Toward a January sky    

Behind wrought iron windows
Hiding in their rooms
The hopeless and heartbroken
Have shut their shades too soon

But if their doors could open 
Everything would be alright
Some hearts could break again  
And you never know, yours might
‘Til Sunday morning keeps 
‘Til Sunday finally keeps
(Yes, it will) 
The promise of Friday night
Oh, the promise of a Friday night