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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 !!!

With her sleek bob haircut (usually with flowers placed just so), vintage fashion sense and artfully customized ukulele, Janet Klein appears to have popped off of a fin-de-siecle French postcard. Sharing her repertoire of "obscure, naughty and lovely" songs from the 1910s, 1920s & 1930s, Janet is a musical archeologist hiding in the body of an F. Scott Fitzgerald heroine. She performs to regularly sold-out houses in the LA area backed by incredible musicians dubbed her "Parlor Boys".

Read more about Janet Klein and her Parlor Boys on Last.fm.


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Janet Klein and her Parlor Boys