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It's another Sunday and he left his dungarees on the corner
There's no hurry at all, the alarm clock is silent too

It's Sunday morning and although a day lasts only a day
You can get much of it, a satisfied song is sung

Time to walk on your own ways, lightened ways, lengthened ways
To anywhere
Time to think many things, unbelievable things, unknown things
In any way
He sings unasked:

It's another Sunday and although it's soon Monday
Hurry won't pressure, idlers are singing

Time to be standing there and here, asking, holding
The wall in its place
Time to learn the rhythm of life, the style of life, the song of life
Of the correct rhythm

You can get much of it, a satisfied song is sung
Idlers are singing
Hoy ee-yi-ee-yi-oo… hoy ee-yi-ee-yi-oo…
Idlers аre ѕinging