Sunday - Pinegrove

I woke up it was Saturday

Grey in the sky

There’s nothing more to say on that

I got up got out of my bed

Stretched my arms wide

It’s time to let this fall from me

It’s time to let it fall

I move through & just as soon

My clothes are catching on

(My eyes closed, lost in my room.)

I move through & just assume

My clothes are catching on thorns

But I’m bringing them with me

Bringing them with me

Call me on Sunday

Call me!

Call me!

Call me on Sunday

I move through & just as soon

My clothes are catching on

I’ll come through, I always do

When I’m moving I just assume

My clothes are catching on thorns

But I’m bringing them with me

Bringing them with me

I never kept good touch

But it’s alright, you never expected much