The Gift of Sunday Morning
She sleeps in good company
A wanderlust in the sunset
Awake at the train station
A common good after morning
She doesn’t cry on Sunday morning
She just smiles and continues turning
Wondering how far
the street lights will take her
She’s got a picture
A pool of memories
She’s natural life
An eclipse on a full moon
And I’ve got a story to tell
A message sealed to the touch
She left the city
She said even after she showered
It just made her feel so filthy
Darling I’m yours to keep
But who are you going to hold
When I’m not there
And you cannot sleep
She doesn’t cry on Sunday morning
She just smiles and continues turning
Wondering how far
The street lamps will take her
Her mother phones all the time
I worry I don’t know what to tell her
Her fathers lost
Left after the scent of another stripper
Her mail box is full
But so is her last pack of Kools
Her mother calls
Just to ask her to phone back home
Or to come back
She doesn’t have to walk
She’s sorry and she just wants to talk
Darling I’m yours to keep
But who are you going to hold
When I’m not there
And you cannot sleep
She doesn’t cry on Sunday morning
She just smiles and continues turning
Wondering how far
The street lamps will take her
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