Sunday Sunset Blues (feat. Far Pines)

Rogers Concrete,
poured in 1942,
it baffles my feet.
The uneven distribution knows no friend or foe.
Just rises and then cracks you in the toes.
Down on my street I borrow a back lot room.
That's where I keep all of my hits and miscues.
Oh they're stowed and I know
they'll be nothing if they're not ever shown.

No, it's not a matter of what I should do.
And oh, oh, oh I know and that's the problem in queue.
Been stumbling like a liquored up fool
home from the bus stop on The Broadway Loop.

I've got the Sunday, end of Sunday.
I've got the Sunset Blues.
I've got the Sunday, end of Sunday.
I've got the Sunset Blues.

My friend Charlie,
she's thrown love an excuse
and when I see people line up and abuse
Oh I lose my fuse but before I do I ask if there's room for two.

No, it's not a matter of what I should do.
And oh, oh, oh, I know and that's the problem in queue.
Been stumbling like a liquored up fool
home from the bus stop on The Broadway Loop.

I've got the Sunday, end of Sunday.
I've got the Sunset Blues.
I've got the Sunday, end of Sunday.
I've got the Sunset Blues.
I've got the Sunday, end of Sunday.
I've got the Sunset Blues.



Credits
Writer(s): Kevin Manning, Thomas David Rush
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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