A Month Of Sundays - The Church

Badman’s woman with that look in her eye

You stop to wonder as she passes by

Something inside you is never the same

Something outside you is always to blame

Follow her home where she lives with some friends

They have some good things to add to the blend

The games expanded, invaded the place

You’re the only one who’s forgotten his face

You’re saying no no no I must be on my way

But it really has been a pleasant night

And you go so slow hope they’ll ask you to stay

And indifference gives you a fright

Walking outside you come to a door

You go inside and you wonder what for

At least it’s good to be out of the wind

You turn around and the clocks all begin

Just like the winter your memory thaws

Just like the ocean your memory pours

So many pieces to match or to find

So many doubts to have in one mind

It’s hard to see how the tables have turned

It’s hard to see how the people have learned

It’s hard to watch the past drizzling past

It’s hard to watch them picking the cast

And it stacks up badly that it never makes sense

You sense that sensation is who’s paying the rent

And she beckons to you with her fingers and lies

She says: can’t you slice the price of your paradise