I hated Sunday morning

Getting dressed up to be my best

Driving to church in silence

Waiting to hear what's next

Promises with catches to them

Making me feel inadequate

I would promise myself

That one day I would have a hit

All I asked for was someone for me that gave a shit

But all I got was a "god" that made me feel lonely instead

*

Hope found itself dead

Yeah my hope found itself dead

Reaching out for a hand

That didn't exist and oh man

I came out feeling worse that I was...

*

I hated Sunday morning

And it's superstitious rules

Music not played

It may have put our god in a bad mood

Momma would say when it started storming

That our god was saying something

Too bad it didn't say

How to keep her cancer away

*

Hope found itself dead

Yeah my hope found itself dead

Reaching out for a hand

That didn't exist and oh man

I came out feeling worse that I was...

*

Now I'm a coward

Afraid of dying and living as well

Slowly the chains are breaking

But I still find myself scared of it's Hell

I find it ignorant to believe in it's Heaven

See now I think that no matter what I'm damaged

I'm broken beyond repair

I hate Sunday mornings

Because of them I can't care

Hope found itself dead

In my arms...

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