D                              A 
Well they used to call him Zero cause he never made his mark 
            Bm                             G 
And when he took up with a tramp like her, all the people laughed 
D                                  A 
Fate just seemed to find them on a one way losing streak 
   Bm                                          G 
Between the two they lived their lives trapped on a dead end street 
       D                            A 
Well a man gets tired of zero and a woman hates that scorn 
       Bm                                        G 
And if time allowed they'd make those fools wish they were never born 


[Refrão]
 
       Bm                        D 
Oh how come it feels like Sunday each day of your life 
Bm                               D  
Some of us have to make a name before we're satisfied 
           G                         Bm  
Oh and how come it feels like Monday seven days a week 
A                             G                 Bm 
Work your fingers to the bone just to make ends meet 



Well the bank job wasn't easy, no, they'd left a couple dead 
And when the headlines hit the stands that day, it was Zero and the tramp they said 
Now it looks like they've got a man hunt for a couple of crazy kids  
And they both got just what they want, it was a price upon their heads 
The more they kept on runnin, the more they fell in love 
Cause when you live your life outside the law, you need that kind of trust 


[Refrão]
 
       Bm                        D 
Oh how come it feels like Sunday each day of your life 
Bm                               D  
Some of us have to make a name before we're satisfied 
           G                         Bm  
Oh and how come it feels like Monday seven days a week 
A                             G                 Bm 
Work your fingers to the bone just to make ends meet 


Sometimes the nights get colder and the dreams can chill your bones 
And it was on a night like this that they came too close to home 
They were caught up in the cross fire of a SWAT team's finest hour 
And went down in a blaze of automatic fire crying hey we've really made it now 



[Refrão]

       Bm                        D 
Oh how come it feels like Sunday each day of your life 
Bm                               D  
Some of us have to make a name before we're satisfied 
           G                         Bm  
Oh and how come it feels like Monday seven days a week 
A                             G                 Bm 
Work your fingers to the bone just to make ends meet