Daddy sits on a? front porch swinging Looking out on a vacant field Used to be filled with burley t'bacca Now he knows it never will My brother's found
church on Sunday to our home on Monday And I've been here the rest of the time I know she's somewhere out there by your side while I'm takin' for a ride
Alabama Wild Man Well, I worked all them joints from the east to the west Never making no money and a starving to death A living on coffee and cold sardines
On Sunday after church there'd always be a picnic There'd be kinfolks callin' until dawn Me I'd play the guitar and my Uncle Merle would sing And grandpa
ME THIS OLD GUITAR, THOUGH I NEVER QUITE KNEW WHY HE SAID SOMEDAY I'D BE FAMOUS LIKE THAT TEXAS LULLABY BUT IT'S BEEN A MONTH OF SUNDAYS SINCE I SEEN
, her again You're really takin' me for a ride You're a wise guy, anyway I never had a place to hide except my brain I dream on a Sunday mornin' And
shaped like a figure eight Yeah that pussy great She bout to get ate [Verse 1:] It was a Friday I was on the highway Riding to that Kanye That's when I saw a
the ring, the dress and the whole nine yards I had a country station on and she reached and turned it Said she couldn't stand the sound of a steel guitar
watched them all on TV copied ev'ry move they made. Oh Rock'n'roll I gave you all the best years of my life AII the dreamy sunny sundays all the moonlit
time could never fade Friday Night, we both made the guitar hum Saturday made Sunday feel like it would never come Gonna be a long Monday Sittin' all alone on a
I like the sound of the gulf breeze blowing Holding your hand, with sand on our feet I like the sound of raindrops dancing As we sleep away a Sunday
?Come on boys, let?s hit the road? We left L.A. on Sunday, in Lubbock by Tuesday That?s where we played our second show Where nobody knew us, so nobody
butkiss You know I lie, I get mean I'm a thief in the dark, I'm a ragin machine I'm a triple rectified ass son of a bitch Rec-tite on my ass and it
got it sorted here, we really got it down To a fine art on Sunday, in a sleepy Sunday town. I wonder what I?m missing, think of songs I?ve never heard
My poor heart keeps on a yearnin' for your sweet love just started burnin' I ain't been warmed in a month of Sundays what about you Well a month of Sundays
just a (C)story to tell (G)I keep on track on Sunday, (C)peace and love, heaven and hell. (G)I'm a mean beat street drifter, with the (C)sun shining
I remember Sundays at the Harbour Bar Drinking cider wishing on a cheap guitar Playing songs from the sixties and the seventies Fleetwood Mac the Eagles