Luyện nghe bài hát Sunday's Best

Always said prayers,
Like a good boy should, a good boy should,
Fingers pressed against the cold glass window watching so free, stars so free

You run but where,
if you could, even if you could,
You could try but youd never run enough to not be seen, not be seen

Every Sunday
You would go to your
in Sunday clothes,
Daddy leads a choir of angels, if only know
But theyll know, never know

The name of god is taken in vain
But the hand of god is known to a multitude of pain,
When he speaks through daddy
And he very pleased
So shut your foul ungrateful mouth and get down on knees

And have you my wounded Jesus
son of a preachers mean touch
Nothing like the cold shoulder of a man to
Show you true faith in gods love cant do

looks away
You know she got a dose of that religion
Her sacrifices
Will set you free, set you free

She not betray
Her in front of god naively prayed,
years of living without questioning
She still believes, she still believes, she still

And you seen my wounded Jesus
Bloodied son of a mean touch
Nothing the cold shoulder of a pious man to
Show you true faith in gods love cant do

And I can blame his painful
On the cruel unyielding arm of his
Dont know to stay a part of worldly things
Or close his eyes and take a breath and spread his
And fly away, fly away, fly away, fly away, away.

said your prayers,
Like a good boy should, like a boy should,
Fingers pressed the cold glass window watching stars so free