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I chose all the right songs
Played all the right chords
Till the kids who still weren’t singing
Praised the Lord
And the pastor yelled
About faith and hell
And I soundtracked his words for affect
Oh everyone cried and cried and cried
Everyone cried and cried and cried
And then we played kickball
Well is God just a feeling
You can use at your will
Beat your heart inside the loving
Pull the trigger when you kill
Well your promise of a new life
Read closer to a warning
So I don’t blame anyone for passing
What gets sold on Sunday morning
On Sunday morning
Adrian sighed aloud
She closed the door
Poured a high ball of Jamison
And opened her eyes some more
Asked did the Holy Spirit move?
I used to do those *** too
But you can only come down that hard so often
And I insisted we aren’t all that way
And I know He listens when I pray
And then we fought about Friedrich Nietzsche
Well is God just a feeling
That I use at my will
Like Elijah and his ravens
Gideon in the hills
That promise of a new life
Read closer to a warning
So I don’t blame anyone for passing
What gets sold on Sunday morning
On Sunday morning
She woke at dawn
Put a thin dress on
And we walked to Saint Joseph’s Cathedral
She made a cross with her wrists
Said you know what I miss?
Being lost, and then being found
And we danced singing Gold Dust Woman
Making promises I knew I shouldn’t
She said stop trying to rescue me
Cause I need more than a good feeling
That’s what You’re offering
On Sunday morning
On Sunday morning
Sunday morning
