Sunday

On Sunday I feel obsolete As I look down And see on my street And there's a man sitting there But I know he don't care for me His boots battered and worn Unlike the smiles he'd sworn to keep On Sundays I hardly blink twice As I'm woken to faces That are never alike And as I fold by the bedside As my drunken blindness resides And as I look at his face, I just know that he's here for the night But you promised you loved me at dawn When you guided me out through the door And with shivers and shakes on your doorstep Are you telling me this was just your trap But you pushed me quite hard at the bus stop And I noticed that it made my heart stop It's all blurred to me On Sundays I feel obsolete As I look down To see on my street And he's there with another, Seeking for warmth in the night But he promised he loves her As he cradles her through the night But you promised you loved me at dawn When you guided me out through the door And with shivers and shakes on your doorstep Are you telling me this was just your trap But you pushed me quite hard at the bus stop And I noticed that it made my heart stop It's all blurred to me On Sundays I long at the street And wonder, what it's like To just feel complete But kind face absorbs me And I hope that he stays for a while With my head in his chest Well then I can stay safe for the night