Sunday Morning

I chose all the right songs
 Played all the right chords
 'Til the kids who still weren't singing
 Praised the Lord
 And the pastor yelled
 'Bout faith and hell
 And I soundtracked his words for effect
 While 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
 You promised of a new life
 It 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
 And she closed the door
 Poured a high ball of Jamison
 Opened her eyes some more
 Asked, did the Holy Spirit move?
 I used to do those drugs too
 But you can only come down that hard so often
 I insisted we aren't all that way
 And I know He listens when I pray
 Then we fought about Friedrich Nietzsche
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 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
 It read closer to a warning
 So I don't blame anyone for passing
 What gets sold on Sunday morning
 ♪
 On Sunday morning
 ♪
 Well 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
 Then 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