The poet and the sinner
Grace your eyes
As they rain from clouds
Beneath the skies
And she fall asleep
And falls to ground
As sweat comes seeping
Through her gown
She tried to make it back to bed
As the sinner kisses her forehead
But she squeals in sadness
With her tears
As pillow soaks up
All her years no
The sinner tries to keep her calm
The sinner tries to keep her calm
The sinner tries to keep her calm
But it's just another
It is just another
Sunday Mourn
'Nother Sunday Mourn
It is just another Sunday Mourn
She ages boys, she kills off men
Using paper cards
With a rub-out pen
The sinner did not mean her harm
As he bandages blood on her arm
The poet only peers at few
With her darkened hair and eyes of blue
But she sees the sinner in bad light
As she storms him through unholy nights
Just another
Just another love for her
Just another Sunday Mourn
Just another
Just another
It is just another Sunday Mourn
