Sunday morning, rise again
Waking from a week-long dead end
Sing it loud and scream it out
This is what it's all about, isn't it?
With a stale stomach and a guilty conscience
I don't believe a single one of my promises
That I utter in the dark
Hold my hand over my heart and hope to die
Sunday morning, I'll be damned
Dead leaves on a fruitless branch, destined to be cut
Your house became a museum
I am just an artifact of what your love can become
But they're crushing your carpentry between their fists
Deciding what you'd say if you ever got the chance
Now I'm burning both ends, I'm your liar and your friend
As if I could ever be both at once
Sunday morning, rise again
Waking from a week-long dread of what I'll find
When I open my eyes
