The Gift of Sunday Morning

She sleeps in good company A wanderlust in the sunset Awake at the train station A common good after morning She doesn’t cry on Sunday morning She just smiles and continues turning Wondering how far the street lights will take her She’s got a picture A pool of memories She’s natural life An eclipse on a full moon And I’ve got a story to tell A message sealed to the touch She left the city She said even after she showered It just made her feel so filthy Darling I’m yours to keep But who are you going to hold When I’m not there And you cannot sleep She doesn’t cry on Sunday morning She just smiles and continues turning Wondering how far The street lamps will take her Her mother phones all the time I worry I don’t know what to tell her Her fathers lost Left after the scent of another stripper Her mail box is full But so is her last pack of Kools Her mother calls Just to ask her to phone back home Or to come back She doesn’t have to walk She’s sorry and she just wants to talk Darling I’m yours to keep But who are you going to hold When I’m not there And you cannot sleep She doesn’t cry on Sunday morning She just smiles and continues turning Wondering how far The street lamps will take her