An Old Sunday - текст песни
An Old Sunday
Atticus of an old Sunday
When you past me sitting on the step
On the porch, waiting for thunder
And all of you came by like a parade
Atticus, walking for hunger
There is suffering in the world you said
At seventeen, I was in 1st grade
I couldn't think of anything to say
My sisters have soldiers to pray for
And they receive their presents in the mail
And Atticus, I was just thinking
I could pray for you and all your friends
There was a cloud of him, sunday fuller, something to come
And I got you bunches of azalea
I gave you bunches of azalea
You say, "Look at the flowers, look at the flowers"
And I thought I could keep all mine
And Atticus, I was so happy when I said good-bye to you and your parade
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