Lyrics
It’s closer to one . . .
the night’s nearly gone.
I’m soaking in the midnight sun
trying to write this song.
But it’s so hard to get it right . . .
when I’m hanging all by myself
on a Friday night.
This is my Friday, Friday song—
won’t you come and sit with me and sing along;
playing it proud, baby, loud and strong,
makes everything alright . . .
on a Friday night.
I’m killing myself
trying to slay these lines;
but with a little of your help,
I’d find the perfect rhymes.
But it’s so hard to give it life . . .
when I’m hanging all by myself
on a Friday night.
This is my Friday, Friday song—
won’t you come and sit with me and sing along;
playing it proud, baby, loud and strong,
makes everything alright . . .
on a Friday night.
I know lately you’ve been so damn tired,
but don’t you know you get me so inspired—
come on, baby, come feed my fire . . .
wake up, girl, let’s play . . .
‘Cause it’s so hard to get it right . . .
when I’m hanging all by myself
on a Friday night.
This is my Friday, Friday song—
won’t you come and sit with me and sing along;
playing it proud, baby, loud and strong,
makes everything alright . . .
on a Friday night.
