Sunday - Auditorium

Sunday

We woke up and you made us coffee

I don’t tend to drink it

But everything that touches your hands

Is slowly becoming the things that

I want to and need to

Be part of the plan

We walked out your door

And the city was singing

On Prospect Park West

There were old men and women

Just dancing to old songs

The kind that would play

When your parents were sleeping

Inside their old homes

Dreaming while their parents

touched and grew bold

And then we stopped and stared

Up at the clouds

For we had noticed that they’d opened up

And so had the crowd

The first snow

We all cheered

And I grabbed your face in my hands

And I kissed you and I promised you

That some day

Our best days won’t only be Sundays

The world will unfold all around

I wanna go a thousand directions

For just us

And we’ll close our eyes

And we’ll spin around

Our fingers outstretched

As we fall down

And wherever chance has

Decided that you and I should both be

Guided then that’s what we’ll aim for

There’s no sense of planning

for joy we’ve been told

But every Sunday we can’t help but hope