Sunday

Momma says I'm up to no good again
I 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 'bout 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, 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?

Sunday, come around, lift me up again
Never too proud for a helping hand
I've been feeling down
Can you heal me now?

Sunday, come around, lift me up again
Never too proud for a helping hand
I've been feeling down
Can you heal me now?

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?