Miss You Sundays
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Miss You Sundays
© 2001 Bryan Masters
C D/F#m C D/F#m C D/F#m G C G
C G
It's just the force of Sunday habit
C D
To call you on the phone
C G
And ask you how you're doin'
D
Tell you how it's goin'
C G
But you never ask for details
C D
Don't seem to want to know
C Am D G C G
Guess that's why you said you had to go
C
You see I can't
D G
get used to Sundays
C D
And the sound of no one there
C D G
So I smoke and drink my coffee
D
And fidget in my chair
C D G
You know the summertime gets lonesome
C D
Just like winter, spring and fall
C Am
Guess I miss you Sundays
D G Em
most of all
C D
Guess I miss you Sundays
G C G
most of all
Sunday boredom
makes me crazy
I'm sick and tired of bein' alone
So I head out on the blacktop
When I get the urge to roam
But I never seem to get far
'bout a hundred miles away
I head back home, and home is where I'll stay
You see I can't
get used to Sundays
and the sound of no one there
so I smoke and drink my whiskey
and smoke some more and stare
You know the summertime gets lonesome
Just like winter, spring and fall
Guess I miss you Sundays most of all
Well, y'see most days just aren't like this
And mostly I feel great
But Sunday's got a rhythm
Seems impossible to shake
And all my friends they tell me
That they're glad I'm doing fine
I'm just glad it's not Sunday all the time
Bryan Masters Music/ASCAP
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All songs © 1985-2008 Bryan Masters Music/ASCAP. All rights reserved.