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Sunday Morning
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I chose all the right songs Played all the right chords Till the kids who still weren't singing Praised the Lord And the pastor yelled About faith and hell And I soundtracked his words for affect And everyone cried and cried and cried Everyone cried and cried and cried And then we played kickball Well is God just a feeling You can use at your will? Beat your heart inside the loving Pull the trigger when you kill Well your promise of a new life Read closer to a warning So I don't blame anyone for passing What gets sold on Sunday morning [Tag] On Sunday morning Adrian sighed aloud Closed the door Poured a high ball of Jamison And opened her eyes some more Asked did the Holy Spirit move? I used to do those drugs too But you can only come down that hard so often And I insisted we aren't all that way And I know He listens when I pray And then we fought about Friedrich Nietzsche Well is God just a feeling That I use at my will Like Elijah and his ravens Gideon in the hills That promise of a new life Read closer to a warning So I don't blame anyone for passing What gets sold on Sunday morning [Tag] On Sunday morning She woke at dawn Put a thin dress on And we walked to Saint Joseph's Cathedral She made a cross with her wrists Said you know what I miss? Being lost, and then being found And we danced singing Gold Dust Woman Making promises I knew I shouldn't She said stop trying to rescue me I need more than a good feeling That's what You're offering On Sunday morning On Sunday morning Sunday morning
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