sunday

Momma says i’m up to no good again

Couldn’t make her proud though I did my best

I feel like a mess

I feel like I’m stuck in the wrong skin

I feel like I’m sick

But I’m having trouble Swallowing my medicine

Sunday

Carry me

Carry me down to the water

Wash me clean

I’m still struggling

Sunday

Bury me

Under the weight of who you need me to be

Can’t you see

I’m struggling

I keep God locked in a picture frame

So I feel a little better about my numbered days

Yeah, I confess

The questions and the answers Seem to the sound the same

I’m just like the rest

Standing tall pretending not to be afraid

Sunday come around

Lift me up again

Never too proud

For a helping hand

I’ve been feeling down

Can you heal me now