Pinegrove Sunday
I woke up it was Saturday
Grey in the sky
There's nothing more to say on that
I got up got out of my bed
Stretched my arms wide
It's time to let this fall from me
It's time to let it fall
I move through and just as soon
My clothes are catching on
(My eyes closed, lost in my room.)
I move through and just assume
My clothes are catching on thorns
But I'm bringing them with me
Bringing them with me
Call me on Sunday
Call me!
Call me!
Call me on Sunday
I move through and just as soon
My clothes are catching on
I'll come through, I always do
When I'm moving I just assume
My clothes are catching on thorns
But I'm bringing them with me
Bringing them with me
I never kept good touch
But it's alright, you never expected much