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Grey Sunday morning, freeze on the ground
Breath in the air no early sounds except
Church bells ringing in the old town
Roll my collar up and walk around
A beer bottle on the grassy strip,
In front of a closed art store
Remnant of a gypsy party last night
That’s what Sunday mornings are for
Sunday morning, Praise the Lord
Spend an hour inside His door
Then biscuits and gravy across the way
Another lazy town Sunday