Sunday

For those who slept

For those who kept

Themselves jacked up

How Jesus wept

Sunday, Sunday

For those in need

For those who speed

For those who try to slow their minds with weed

Sunday, Sunday

For those who wake

With a blind headache

Who must be still

Who will sit and wait

For Sunday to be Monday

Yeah, it will be okay

Do nothing today

Give yourself a break

Let your imagination run away

For those with guilt

For those who wilt

Under pressure

No tears over spilt milk

Sunday, Sunday

Sunday, Sunday

Sunday

Yeah, it will be okay

Do nothing today

Give yourself a break

Let your imagination run away

Yeah, it will be okay

Do nothing today

Give yourself a break

Let your imagination run away

I-I-I-I-I

I

I

I, I, I, I

I-I-I-I-I

I

I

I

I-I-I-I-I

I

I

I, I, I

I-I-I-I-I

I

I

Oh, no, no, yeah