Luyện nghe bài hát Seven Sundays

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And one hot when I was thirteen
my soul to the river and washed it clean
It feels so good, Lord, why there be
Sundays a week?

Seven a week