Michael Zapruder Second Sunday In Ordinary Time
Second Sunday in ordinary time
With the hot suits and the fashion crimes
It's you and me somehow
Walking now
Can you tell me how
I could be here walking
And I could be hanging
With that ceremonial chime
In the beams of second Sunday in ordinary time
Second Sunday in ordinary time
And the bride's a little past her prime
It's you and me somehow
Walking now
With my aching brow
That burns in every line
Where the praying mothers know it only costs a dime
For a wish on second Sunday in ordinary time
And I don't mind
That we're moving up
That's all right, but it's the damn golden cup
That stays half empty
In the hands of second Sunday in ordinary time
It's you and me somehow
Walking now
Where the crowds allow
And when they leave we shine
All the golden things that were covered up with grime
From the gears of second Sunday in ordinary time
Second Sunday in ordinary time
With the hot suits and the fashion crimes
