can, with who I am You go to church on Sunday While I'm still home in bed Sleepin' off the night I had before And sometime you say I'm perfect And sometimes
He was a lot of things What I remember the most he'd say I've got to bring home the bacon Someone's got to bring home the roast He'd get to the factory
The summer breeze made ripples on the pond It rattled through the reeds, and the willow trees beyond Daddy in his good hat and mama in her Sunday dress
, even fuck small bitches Too bad I can't fuck all you bitches It don't take players like me too long To get bitches like you to let me take you home
eyes you might hear us even from there Songs of love That still make your heart feel good We almost always talk Sometimes not, sometimes not Songs out
know, yes I know Won't you tell the folks back home I'll soon be coming? And don't let them know I never will be free, be free Sometimes write and tell
-a-ways And I put my guns away and I pray for peace on Sundays It's crazy ain't it Just like the soldiers, that ain't comin' home this year Just like
power and the passion Sometimes you?ve got to take the hardest line Sunburnt faces around, with skin so brown Smiling zinc cream and crowds Sundays
in parishioners' clothes and didn't believe in Hell Her daddy fought the DAR, if he'd lived, I'd have known him well They said, "Go find a Sunday School
Vera comes home on Sunday morning after hanging with the boys all night Laughing and drinking with them, thinking she's one of them And that makes everything
train won't run on a torn up track Sometimes I wish I'd never roamed,oh no 'Cause when you leave that way you can never go home Then I met a girl
train won't run on a torn up track Sometimes I wish I'd never roamed,oh no 'Cause when you leave that way you can never go home Then I met a girl in
, then they eyes then the touch 'em on the arm's And the drinks, they never seem to cost money And Saturday night was a runway That extended into Sunday and sometimes
For years she's lived on her own In a corner of the city Twice a year she gets back home Playing catch-up with the family She tells her folks what they
Everything is perfect or so it seems Mama and Daddy come by sometimes And everything is fine My old dog does a little singing Late at night when the moon gets bright Sunday
X-Files, and BayWatch. Sometimes I turn my telephone off, so I can watch the nanny. I don't have a routine except that Sunday night watching the community
My ma would like a letter home but I'm too tired for writing Chorus It almost breaks my heart when I think of Josephine I told her I'd be coming home
Everyday seem like Sunday It must be something that I have done I saw you dancing in the peep-show That every episode is leading me on I'm just another