The sun hangs over Sunday

And I'm tangled in sheets.

And it creeps between my eyelids.

Seems the blinds sprung a leak.

Pills crushed in wine are a 

Headache sometimes.

But not 'til the feeling's worn off.

Still the sun hangs over Sunday

And I'm not gettin up.



There's nothing like a beautiful morning.

No, there's nothing like a beautiful day.

No, there's nothing like a beautiful morning,

To make me hate the way I hate myself today.



Well the sun hangs over Sunday

I pull the blankets above my head.

And it creeps between the stitches.

I melt like wax in my bed.

There was someone here last night

Before I closed my eyes.

She's just a scent on the sheets

Still the sun hangs over Sunday

And I'm gettin the fuck back to sleep.



And there's nothing like a beautiful morning.

No, there's nothing like a beautiful day.

No, there's nothing like a beautiful morning,

To make me hate the way I hate myself today.



Well the sun hangs over Sunday

And I'm hungover as well

No the sun hangs over Sunday

And I'm hungover as hell.