Perfect Days

When a holiday falls on a weekend day,
Then you get either Friday or Monday off.
If it's a Saturday, then it's a Friday.
If it's a Sunday, then it's a Monday.

Or something like that.

But every day that's off, is really on,
And as I drift through this river, called life,
I realize that when it's on, it on.
And when it's off, it's still on.

A torrent.

At the end of the day, you can rest your head on a pillow,
And mutter, through sleep soaked words that
You never knew there could be a perfect day.
And maybe that's right. Maybe there isn't.

But, maybe some days are closer than others.