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Sunday's Best

Always said your prayers,

Like a good boy should, like a good boy should,

Fingers pressed against the cold glass window watching stars so free, stars so freeYou would run but where,

Even if you could, even if you could,

You could try but youd never run fast enough to not be seen, not be seenEvery Sunday morning

You would go to your church

in your Sunday clothes,

Daddy leads a choir of angels, if theyd only know

But theyll never know, never knowThe name of god is never taken in vain

But the hand of god is known to cause a multitude of pain,

When he speaks through your daddy

And he isnt very pleased

So shut your foul ungrateful mouth and get down on your kneesAnd have you seen my wounded Jesus

Bloodied son of a preachers mean touch

Nothing like the cold shoulder of a pious man to

Show you what true faith in gods love cant doMama looks away

You know she got a dose of that religion yesterday

Her sacrifices made

Will someday set you free, set you freeShe will not betray

Her promises in front of god naively prayed,

After years of living without questioning

She still believes, she still believes, she still believesAnd have you seen my wounded Jesus

Bloodied son of a preachers mean touch

Nothing like the cold shoulder of a pious man to

Show you what true faith in gods love cant doAnd I can blame his painful indecision

On the cruel unyielding arm of his religion

Dont know whether to stay a part of worldly things

Or close his eyes and take a breath and spread his wings

And fly away, fly away, fly away, fly away, flay away.Always said your prayers,

Like a good boy should, like a good boy should,

Fingers pressed against the cold glass window watching stars so free

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