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Sunday - Don Ewell



     
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Sunday Lyrics


Your vision's blurred, your mouth is dry
It is Sunday, just another Sunday
Your body aches, your conscience sleeps
It is Sunday, just another Sunday
You say you don't wanna feel this way
You don't wanna feel
You say you don't wanna feel this way
You don't wanna feel
Your knees are weak, your heart's on speed
It is Sunday, just another Sunday
Your senses lie, your temple speaks
It is Sunday, just another Sunday
You say you don't wanna feel this way
You don't wanna feel
You say you don't wanna feel this way
You don't wanna feel
I think I'm outta my mind sometimes maybe
Feel, feel

No room in my head cause it's filled with a boom
I think I'm outta my mind sometimes maybe
Feel, feel
No room in my head cause it's filled with a boom
It is Sunday, just another Sunday
[Incomprehensible][Incomprehensible]You say you don't wanna feel this way
You don't wanna feel
You say you don't wanna feel this way
You don't wanna feel
I think I'm outta my mind sometimes maybe
Feel, feel
No room in my head cause it's filled with a boom
I think I'm outta my mind sometimes maybe
Feel, feel
No room in my head cause it's filled with a boom

Enjoy the lyrics !!!

Don Ewell (November 14, 1916 – August 9, 1983) was an American jazz stride pianist born in Baltimore, Maryland, perhaps best known for his work with several prominent New Orleans–based musicians such as Sidney Bechet, Kid Ory, George Lewis, George Brunis, Muggsy Spanier and Bunk Johnson.
From 1956 to 1962, Ewell was a leading member of the Jack Teagarden band. Following Teagarden's death Ewell did some European tours, and then moved back to New Orleans and played clubs and hotels there.

Read more about Don Ewell on Last.fm.


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Don Ewell