Sunday morning
pull it together
and open up your eyes
we are your sons and daughters
in disguise
raging nights
of tears and of laughter
and nothing in between
the things that we see
but cannot recognize
as notions to fear
failed conclusions
burning desire
mistake for love
stumbling on
but we never get enough
trembling hearts
so eager to worry
and wisdom to reject
oh how we plunge ourselves
into a state of turning away
of turning away
of turning away
of turning away
tear it up
and put it together
altered every time
a haircut, a nail
the apple of your eye
sunday evening
try to remember
what it was we said
we are the sons and daughters
of the dead
still trying to live
still trying to live
still trying to live
still trying to live
na na na na
na na na...