Over Last Sunday

All week long I’ve been writing down the wall.
Writing and writing and writing, erasing it all.
Never set my watch just couldn’t take the time.
But I was over last Sunday and she didn’t seem to mind.

Everyone outside is choosing sides.
Silly me, I still think they’re all right.
Don’t know why they have to draw the line.
But I was over last Sunday and she didn’t seem to mind.

Now, if I could just shut up for five minutes
I might be all right. I might be fine.

Stuck in a groove, my record skips my name.
Sometimes my better angels know such shame.
Some of my pain isn’t even mine.
But I was over last Sunday and she didn’t seem to mind.

So much I’ve learned I never really wanted to know.
And lately I’ve been letting myself go.
Wouldn’t even recognize me from behind.
But I was over last Sunday and she didn’t seem to mind.