Sunday

For those who've slept For those who've 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, 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, I, I, I Oh, no, no, yeah