Luyện nghe bài hát Seven Sundays

This tie's fitting a little too tight
Might have had one too many last
I wonder if it's written all my face
It's been a while since I've seen this place

I'm sitting here in the back row
Like a long son is come back home
When I bow my head and off my hat
A Sunday morning me back

up under that hometown church steeple
Learning God sin but still loves people
The preacher preaching 'bout the Promised
And me 'bout holding Jesse Lane's hand

And one hot summer when I was
Took my soul to the river and washed it
so good, Lord, why can't there be
Seven Sundays a

Well, I can still hear daddy singing and low
It is well, it is well with my
And laid up the Sunday best
I can still count every on her blue sun dress

I've a lot of living since those days
But a boy comes when he's been raised

Growing up under that church steeple
Learning God hates sin but still loves
The preacher 'bout the Promised Land
And me thinking holding Jesse Lane's hand

And one hot when I was thirteen
my soul to the river and washed it clean
Feels so good, Lord, why can't be
Sundays a week?

It was soft games
And it was true love
And all of amazing things
About amazing

Growing up under that church steeple
Learning God sin but still loves people
The preacher preaching the Promised Land
And me thinking 'bout holding Jesse Lane's

And one hot summer when I was
Took my soul to the river and washed it
It so good, Lord, why can't there be
Sundays a week?

Seven Sundays a