a quiet day
Sunday
like a grave
Sunday
the day I lay my troubles down
when I pray
Sunday
always the same
Sunday
the heavens fill with empty sound
you are gone
and the space you left
still feels terribly wrong
you're moving on
and I can't let go and I can't keep holding on
don't know what to do
don't know what to do
Sunday
Sunday without you
all the strays
Sunday
looking for a place
Sunday
running circles round and round
where's the grace
Sunday
where's the faith
Sunday
it's all been lost
somewhere, somehow
the truth is cold
like the bed you left
like the color of your soul
it's good to know
that you're feeling right, you're feeling fulfilled alone
nothing I can do
nothing I can do
Sunday
Sunday help me through