La Dispute - Sunday Morning, at a Funeral lyrics
[La Dispute - Sunday Morning, at a Funeral lyrics]
Sunday morning still laid innocent in sheets
Barely half asleep
Sunday morning I was dreaming
I was turning from
A busy street into a parking lot
Sunday morning broke and dragged
Me out of bed, slightly less asleep
Sunday morning I was warming
All the cold parts
Of my head in cups and coffee pots
In the winter I wonder what it's
Like to be anywhere else
To be anywhere but here
If I leave and don't return, I hope the
Factories get full of
People making furniture
And the river running clear
Sunday morning fell apart and back to
Sleep where I was running late
Where I looked out of place
Sunday morning pace of steady nervous feet
Headed for the church doors
Sunday morning dressed in suit's
And shades of black
Sunday morning soft in Sunday best
Sunday someone's never coming back here
To this place anymore
In the winter I wonder what it's
Like to be anywhere else
To be anywhere but here
If I leave and don't return, I hope the
Factories get full with
People making furniture
And the river running clear
Sunday morning stared at rows of crowded
Pews, half or all asleep, looking for a seat
Sunday morning waiting for a call from you
But didn't hear my phone ring
Sunday morning had to sit and watch you bawl
Sunday morning left the ringer off
Sunday morning missed it when you called and
Couldn't do a thing but watch
In the winter I wonder what it's like to
Be where you are, where you are
Where you are
In the winter I wonder what it'd be
Like if you were still here
Would the factories fill? Would the river
Run clear? Would the river run?
Sunday morning dreamt about a moment passed
About a time I failed
Sunday morning I was staring at the
Clock trying to push it back
Sunday morning wished to be a kid
Sunday morning shook me all the way awake
Stirred me from the dream
Sunday morning I was thinking of a phone call
I should make to you but never did
I never did
Barely half asleep
Sunday morning I was dreaming
I was turning from
A busy street into a parking lot
Sunday morning broke and dragged
Me out of bed, slightly less asleep
Sunday morning I was warming
All the cold parts
Of my head in cups and coffee pots
In the winter I wonder what it's
Like to be anywhere else
To be anywhere but here
If I leave and don't return, I hope the
Factories get full of
People making furniture
And the river running clear
Sunday morning fell apart and back to
Sleep where I was running late
Where I looked out of place
Sunday morning pace of steady nervous feet
Headed for the church doors
Sunday morning dressed in suit's
And shades of black
Sunday morning soft in Sunday best
Sunday someone's never coming back here
To this place anymore
In the winter I wonder what it's
Like to be anywhere else
To be anywhere but here
If I leave and don't return, I hope the
Factories get full with
People making furniture
And the river running clear
Sunday morning stared at rows of crowded
Pews, half or all asleep, looking for a seat
Sunday morning waiting for a call from you
But didn't hear my phone ring
Sunday morning had to sit and watch you bawl
Sunday morning left the ringer off
Sunday morning missed it when you called and
Couldn't do a thing but watch
In the winter I wonder what it's like to
Be where you are, where you are
Where you are
In the winter I wonder what it'd be
Like if you were still here
Would the factories fill? Would the river
Run clear? Would the river run?
Sunday morning dreamt about a moment passed
About a time I failed
Sunday morning I was staring at the
Clock trying to push it back
Sunday morning wished to be a kid
Sunday morning shook me all the way awake
Stirred me from the dream
Sunday morning I was thinking of a phone call
I should make to you but never did
I never did