Sunday Night

I would sing you all of the words if I knew them all.
I would sing you all of these songs.
And if the street lights guide you through all of your misery,
Well would you sing along with me or carry along?
I layed on my roof last Sunday night.
I was talking to myself outside, and I'm fine with that.
It's not so bad I guess.
All I seem to hear is the same question.
It's always, "Hey, how have you been?"
And I'm still the same, not much has changed for me anyway.

I would sing you to sleep if you would lay with me like you use to.
And if the street lights help you so you can finally see,
Well would you sing along with me?
And I would find the words, but I just seem to choke.
I'm always reminded of what I broke so I quit keeping track.
I'm done with that.
So I went out and sang some songs I had,
To remind myself that it's not so bad.
I guess it's not so bad.