Sunday Mornings

Don’t ask me why I stay in on a Sunday
It’s just a habit of mine
Not pressed for time on that slow burning slum day
As the rest of the world rushes by

I don’t care if it’s rain or it’s sunshine
My Sunday mornings just fine
Long lazy day lying here in my own time
Sunday paper and a glass of wine

I don’t believe in no Gods or in Mantra
They’re just a crazy waste of time
I want to lye by your side
Till the morning sun rises in the sky


Hot buttered toast with my tea in the morning
Warm sheets, sweet talk, the radios on
My body’s weak but my mind is exploding
Sweet mouth, soft touch, the pain is gone

Don’t ask me why I stay in on a Sunday
It’s such a good habit of mine
Just passing time on that slow burning slum day
With a loving woman and I’m feeling fine 
With a loving woman and I’m feeling fine 
With a loving woman and I’m feeling fine