. Sunday rolls around- but thats another story. It gets a little boring. I could break your heart any day of the week. I hold on to you. You hold on
, makin' noise and she can't get no rest She said we was runnin' a flop house full of thieves and thugs Musicians and hooligans and we were all on drugs
BOB Bob goes to church every Sunday every Sunday that the fish ain't bitin' Bob never have to have dinner with the Preacher cos' Bob never bothered
for now who should remain nameless. You wash and clean your car out every single sunday mornign. You still enjoy surprises, you just need alot of warning. You concentrate on
the shells they're kept in All wasted away Blessed are the sick in me The prey, the thrill, the chill and we Are martyrs that crumble on time Predestination
drums! Ah! You 'gonna love this guy! Prince Ali - fabulous he - Ali Ababwa Genuflect, show some respect: Down on one knee. Now try your best to stay calm, Brush off your sunday
bore arms If you looked in his closet, it was all that you saw He'd dress up on Sunday, a body looked neat In a green leisure suit with wing tips on his
Everything is slower here, everybody's got a union card They get up on Sunday, go to church of their choice Come back home, cook out in the backyard
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
is the one I wore to every boring high school dance Where the boys ignored the girls And we all pretended to like the band This shirt was a pillow for my head On
so we'd wake up in our Sunday's best I never asked for your opinion, I just got it and I get it You move slow like daytime drama And I'm boring like
Satan shows up on TV every Sunday morning I would have kissed her once again but I found her rather boring To listen to his messages Is like licking
on my boot and i step in it right left in em mr eterceden head all the time it may sound crazy but i got head on my mind lay it on the line or just lay
like escape I guess I got some attention to pay The girl blazin like a doughnut on a early sunday And I could be the chocolate on top of her sundae She
He took her away for an hour every Sunday And cut all of her beautiful curls She was always easy seven days of the week Now she's a bore and I've seen
lines I wish it was summertime But it's Sunday night And flight five-five-seven's arrived She tells me She's filled buildings with history On 22nd Street
How can you dance on the battlefield with your Sunday clothes on? How long can you go along with this shit with a straight face on and on? Longer than
and we wanted to share the view. Leaves on the trees are turning and the woods are all ablaze They smell of timber burning in the fireplace. Sunday we