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• Artiste: Auditorium
• Titre: Sunday
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We woke up and you made us coffee I don't tend to drink it but Everything that touches your hands Is slowly becoming the things that I want to and need to be part of the plan We walked out your door And the city was singing On Prospect Park West there were old men and women just dancing to old songs The kind that were played when your parents were sleeping inside their old homes Dreaming while their parents touched and grew bold And then we stopped and stared up at the clouds For we had noticed that they'd opened up and so had the crowd The first snow We all cheered And I grabbed your face in my hands and I kissed you and I promised you that Someday Our best days won't only be Sundays The world will unfold all around us A thousand directions for just us And we'll close our eyes and we'll spin 'round Our fingers outstretched as we fall down And wherever chance has decided That you and I should both be guided Then that's what we'll aim for There's no sense in planning for joy we've been told But every Sunday we can't help but hope