Do you guys like Sundays?? (movies, friend, clothes, neighbor)
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Raymond's in his Sunday best.
He's usually up to his chest in oil and grease.
There's the Martin's walkin' in,
With that mean little freckle-faced kid,
Who broke a window last week.
Sweet Miss Betty likes to sing off key in the pew behind me.
That's what I love about Sunday:
Sing along as the choir sways;
Every verse of Amazin' Grace,
And then we shake the Preacher's hand.
Go home into your blue jeans;
Have some chicken and some baked beans.
Pick a back yard football team,
Not do much of anything.
That's what I love about Sunday.
I stroll to the end of the drive,
Pick up the Sunday Times, grab a coffee cup.
It looks like Sally and Ron finally tied the knot,
Well, it's about time.
It's 35 cents off of ground round,
Baby, cut that coupon out!
That's what I love about Sunday:
Cat-napping on the porch swing;
You curled up next to me,
The smell of jasmine wakes us up.
Take a walk down a back road,
Tackle box and a cane pole;
Carve our names in that white oak,
I steal a kiss as the sun fades,
That's what I love about Sunday.
Oh, yeah.
I like Sundays, I have to work fairly often on Saturday, but almost never Sunday. I also call my parents Sunday morning and it's always nice to talk to them. I kind of like that nothing is open, so I don't feel like I should really go do all that stuff.
Sunday is the one day I let it all go. My door is not locked and people who know me know all they have to do is push it open. They may find me in my PJ's. I love it and always have except when I was employed by others or when I was at school.
I love the solitude and laziness it some times brings. I try not to think about work as my business is 24/7 365.242199 days a year. People tend not to call and I never answer the phone just check for messages. It's my only normal day.
Raymond's in his Sunday best.
He's usually up to his chest in oil and grease.
There's the Martin's walkin' in,
With that mean little freckle-faced kid,
Who broke a window last week.
Sweet Miss Betty likes to sing off key in the pew behind me.
That's what I love about Sunday:
Sing along as the choir sways;
Every verse of Amazin' Grace,
And then we shake the Preacher's hand.
Go home into your blue jeans;
Have some chicken and some baked beans.
Pick a back yard football team,
Not do much of anything.
That's what I love about Sunday.
I stroll to the end of the drive,
Pick up the Sunday Times, grab a coffee cup.
It looks like Sally and Ron finally tied the knot,
Well, it's about time.
It's 35 cents off of ground round,
Baby, cut that coupon out!
That's what I love about Sunday:
Cat-napping on the porch swing;
You curled up next to me,
The smell of jasmine wakes us up.
Take a walk down a back road,
Tackle box and a cane pole;
Carve our names in that white oak,
I steal a kiss as the sun fades,
That's what I love about Sunday.
Oh, yeah.
Sundays are the best
Well I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head, that didn't hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast
Wasn't bad so I had one more for dessert
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
It's the one I'm wearin'
And I shaved my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
I'd smoked my brain the night before
Or I smoked so much the night before
With cigarettes and songs that I've been pickin'
My mouth was like an ashtray I'd been lickin'
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Cussin' at a can that he was kicking
Then I crossed the empty street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken
And it took me back to somethin'
That I'd lost somehow somewhere along the way
Chorus:
On the Sunday morning sidewalks
Wishing Lord that I was stoned
'Cause there is something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothin' short of dyin'
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city side walks
Sunday mornin' comin' down
In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl who he was swingin'
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the song that they were singin'
Then I headed back for home and
Somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'
And it echoed thru the canyon like
The disappearing dreams of yesterday.
Chorus:
On the Sunday morning sidewalks
Wishing Lord that I was stoned
'Cause there is something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothin' short of dyin'
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city side walks
Sunday mornin' comin' down.
I use Sunday as my relax day, so I like Sundays. It's my day to pace myself. Some days I'll veg out and do nothing, or go people watching at Grove or 3rd St Promenade or indulge in my favorite hobby: going to open houses.
We don't mind Sundays at all. When we lived in Colorado, Sunday morning was another boating/fishing day for us on the local Reservior. That is, unless it was too windy or raining. If we did take the boat out, once we got back home, it was "nap time" for us (sometimes would have a "nap time" on Saturday as well. No kids (literally) to stop us and no family where we lived either. Now, this was durng the summer months. During the winter months, Sunday was generally about RELAXATION, watching NFL (that my wife loves watching also) and doing pretty much NOTHING! Unless, it was snowing, then shoveling was part of our day.
So Sunday is here again. Let's see if I can make it without the Sunday blues kicking in
I'm working my tail off this weekend, so I won't have time or energy for any blues. What keeps me motivated is the thought of kicking back next couple of weekends. I'll take Halloween off and play dress-up in peace and perhaps the Thursday before or the Monday after.
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