Sunday

For those who've slept
 For those who've kept
 Themselves jacked up
 How Jesus wept
 Sunday
 Sunday
 For those in need
 For those who speed
 For those who try to slow their minds with weed
 Sunday
 Sunday
 For those who wake
 With a blind headache
 Who must be still
 Who will sit and wait
 For Sunday, to be Monday
 Yeah, it will be okay
 Do nothing today
 Give yourself a break
 Let your imagination run away
 For those with guilt
 For those who wilt
 Under pressure
 No tears over spilt milk
 Sunday
 Sunday
 Sunday
 Sunday
 Sunday
 Yeah, it will be okay
 Do nothing today
 Give yourself a break
 Let your imagination run away
 Yeah, it will be okay
 Do nothing today
 Give yourself a break
 Let your imagination run away
 I, I, I, I, I
 I, I, I, I, I
 I, I, I, I, I
 I, I, I, I, I
 I, I, I, I, I
 I, I, I, I, I
 I, I, I, I, I
 I, I, I, I, I
 I, I, I, I, I
 I, I, I, I, I
 I, I, I, I, I
 I, I, I, I, I
 I, I, I, I, I
 I, I, I, I, I
 I, I, I, I, I
 Oh, no, no, yeah