Imperfect Day

Monday morning, same as the one before.
Sometimes I think I can't do this anymore.
Then I feel you put your hand in mine,
saying, "Darling, everything's gonna be fine."

Car is broken, bills are piling high.
Sometimes I don't know how I'll ever get by.
Then I see you smiling down at me,
saying, "Darling, what will be will be."

On an imperfect day, it will be okay
with you right by side.
And if the days are long,
then it won't be wrong
to hold you through the night.

Friday evening, working late again.
Sometimes it seems like this day will never end.
Then I hear your voice on the telephone,
saying, "Darling, I can't wait for you to come home."

And when you smile,
it's all worthwhile,
the things that we must do
for an imperfect day
to be okay.
They're better spent with you.