The sun hangs over Sunday
and I'm tangled in sheets
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 getting 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
the sun hangs over Sunday
I pull the blankets over 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
the sun hangs over Sunday
and I'm hungover as well
the sun hangs over Sunday
and I'm hungover as hell