you manage to feed the rest Pa, pa, pa See how they run Lady Madonna lying on the bed Listen to the music playing in your head Tuesday afternoon is
all afternoon gettin' ready And decided she'd try to touch him And maybe he'd see that she was free And talk to her this Sunday She knew from the start
I love poetry with brilliant rhymes And songs that draw me in With clever opening lines I love rainy Sunday afternoons Being kissed by sun And dreaming
these punks have to go I think we're gonna get the old heave ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho Neighbor called my landlord, it was a Sunday afternoon She couldn
Hangin? out at the old park pool Right after Sunday school Banana Boat, a rubber float Another summer afternoon Bonfire at the creek tonight Bubba bringin
tears With every phrase we see the . . . past unfold . . . Like memories in gold. Some tunes remind us of our childhood days . . . Sunday afternoons
smile, my sky plays fatal music There's the promise and the shell of great beginnings seldom finished In the laze of a barefoot afternoon, oh, what's a boy to do? Sunday
to feed the rest? See how they run Well, Lady Madonna you're lying on the bed Listen to the music playing in your pretty little head Tuesday afternoon
' and grinnin', casually, you and me We'll pick up the pieces, uh-huh Somebody yelled out at me, country music and company Kind of makes it in a Sunday afternoon
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 afternoon
Sunday afternoon I took a trip to Hackensack But after I gave Hackensack the once over I took the next train back I happen to like New York And oh, the Easter Show at the Music
at the park The say, "Hey, Willie" and those rock-a-billies Made their way into my heart I remember the old folks sittin' 'round talkin' On laid back Sunday afternoons
some love To get by, to get by, to be alright even when the world is off it's axis It's Sunday and you just wanted to enjoy the afternoon I need a new
think I should've packed my gun Got that old suburban showdown in my mind Sit around with the folks Tell the same old tired jokes Bored to death on Sunday afternoon
a Sunday, Sunday driver He don't want to get his baby home too soon He's a Sunday driver In the middle of my Thursday afternoon But I will not blink
, we major We major? Come on, homie, we major We major? Come on, homie, we major We major? Come on, homie, we major We major? Come on Feeling better than some head on a Sunday afternoon