Lyrics

Sunday Morning
(Words and music by Allan Dawson)

You see the world in chapter & verse,
You see the future through a hazy glass.
You take for granted every line you rehearse,
But you can’t see the gestures of your past.

I have solutions on the tip of my tongue,
But I don’t know how to pass them on.

We go down on a Sunday morning,
For the last sip of summer sun juice.
You love the sound of a Sunday morning,
As it captures it’s reflections of you.

You have an appetite for far away places,
In time and space invented in your head.
You get a fix from finding new faces,
And playing their games in your bed.

I have solutions on the tip of my tongue,
But I don’t know how to pass them on.

We go down on a Sunday morning,
For the last sip of summer sun juice.
You love the sound of a Sunday morning,
As it shines out reflections of you.
You give the world a backward glance,
As we focus on the past on Sunday morning.

You’re searching for the places that you buried in your head,
But you’re never going to find them ‘coz they’re not in your bed.
You know we’ve got the answers and you know we got solutions,
But we know you’re playing games ‘coz you keep telling us the names.

We go down on a Sunday morning,
To the open stranded garden paradise,
For the last sip of summer sun juice.
We go down on a Sunday morning,
To extract the optimism from your eyes,
As the scheme shines reflections of you.
We go down on a Sunday morning,
For the last sip of summer sun juice.
You love the sound of a Sunday morning,
As it shines out reflections of you.
You give the world a backward glance,
As we focus on the forecast on Sunday morning.