Sundays

Waking up oh so early
putting on my best best
usually I'm wearing so much less
a pair of 'ol jeans and green T

A top that old stage
Sining that songs to lift him high
oh how much it makes me feel free
All the times I feel let out of my cage

Old Miss Bethany coming to the alter
every time I see her cry
is another time that I falter
I can always let go of my rage

You and I curled up in the grass
A time to forget about all that polished brass
This is the time that I feel my best
and I can stay there with you for all the rest

I know so surely
when I see the moon's crest
that he's watching over me
and the scene of you in your best dress