Sometimes on Sundays

The sun falls slow through the kitchen blinds That creeping dread as the clock eats time Your voice drifting over the TV screen Talking ’bout bills and the same old things And I nod like I always do But my mind ain’t here with you You say, “Baby, Monday comes too fast” Like it’s something we can’t outrun That clock’s ticking like a loaded gun Another week already won Your hand on mine feels safe and warm But safety’s starting to feel like a cage There’s a highway humming in my chest Something new begging for a stage There’s a map folded up in my head Giving me hope for a reason to get outta bed Every mile whispering my name Where not every Monday feels the same Sometimes on Sundays I dream of running away Windows down, chasing the edge of the day Leaving this town, just you and me Making Monday feel like something wild and free Sometimes on Sundays I swear I can almost see A life that’s bigger than this little routine But the sun goes down and the sky turns gray And sometimes on Sundays I dream of running away Ahhhhhh Sometimes on Sundays Ahhhhhh Sometimes on Sundays Ahhhhhh - run away Ohhh I dream of running away You talk about the yard we’ll buy And maybe kids in a year or two But the picture frame in your perfect life Don’t leave much room for me to move There’s a rusted Chevy in my mind Parked where the desert meets the sky Radio screaming some old love song And nobody asking me why There’s a wind blowing under my skin Like the world’s trying to pull me in Every mile calling my name Where not every Monday feels the same Sometimes on Sundays I dream of running away Windows down, chasing the edge of the day Leaving this town in a cloud of dust chasing something in me Making Monday feel like something wild and free Sometimes on Sundays I swear I can almost see A life that’s bigger than this little routine But the sun goes down and the sky turns gray And all I want to do is Pack the car… and drive away Ahhhhhh Sometimes on Sundays Ahhhhhh Sometimes on Sundays Ahhhhhh - drive away Ohhh Just Pack the car… drive away Late afternoon shadows on the living room floor Weekend’s already walking out the door Your voice asking what I wanna do I smile like the good girls do But the highway’s whispering through my bones And it sounds like truth Sometimes on Sundays I dream of running away Your hand in mine at the end of the day Leaving this town where the same days repeat Finding a road where our hearts can breathe Sometimes on Sundays I swear I can see A life that’s still waiting for me But the sun sinks low and the sky turns gray And sometimes on Sundays I dream of running away Sunday night… And the feeling’s the same That old road calling my name