I remember Sunday morning

With Sunday morning silence

A Sunday, bloody Sunday

It’s Sunday, time is slow

 

They call her Sunday’s child

Has a Sunday smile for you

She’ll turn once more to Sunday’s clown

and cry behind the door

 

You can read it in the Sunday papers

Sunday driver with his hands off the wheel

Another unsuspecting Sunday afternoon

Live in dreams, Sunday girl

 

I’m easy like Sunday morning

And Sunday always comes too late

On Sunday, hated Sunday

The Sunday evening sun goes down…

 

* Each individual line is taken from a song. I am grateful to the original lyricists and performers.

~Richard