Sunday Morning

Driving on the faded mid-western dotted line
with nothing but the fighting wind to slowly count the time
racing with the fences as they guard their farms
here I come, there I go, help me lay down my arms

Just as I am, you rush in without a warning
I didn`t think that you would want to come to this place
and make it feel like a sunday morning.

I have been a blacksmith with the tools in my hands
with plastered eyes I build the lie and cannot understand
feeding on the ashes of a deluded heart
but in the place of dust and death I see you have come this far

And just as I am...

You were the first, and you`ll be the last
and like a cloud on the Chicago skyline
these things are past

Maybe it`s the way your love swells beneath my skin
or maybe it`s because my senses are full again
maybe it`s because I can`t quite mark the source
or maybe I`m afraid to let it run it`s course...