Sunday Driver

You were the loaded gun with your guitar and discount wine

And nobody heard your shot ring out and vanish there in the night

But come the morning they'll be asking who it was and how it happened

What's the reason, what's the boy's real name

And then they'll chain you to the

Square assign you false offenses there

And make you leave just as sick as you came

Ooh, they called you a Sunday driver

They cursed you down to the bone

They called you a Sunday driver

The city don't belong

But you got caught at dawn in a monsoon in New Orleans

And you were halted on both coasts and every city between

And now you've lost a million friends

As every mile clings to your skin

And who are they to say what hurt you feel

And who are they to draw the line

To say what's yours and what is mine

And who are they to say what's fake or real

Ooh, they called you a Sunday driver

It's wrong to write down your blues

They called you a Sunday driver

As if they walked in your shoes

They called you a Sunday driver