Sunday, According to the Cat

Pastoral folk, soft dreamy production easing into a fading instrumental outro; lilting piano, warm acoustic guitar, playful woodwind turns, pizzicato strings, celesta sparkles, gentle upright bass; unhurried 6/8 sway around 78 BPM; hushed, close-mic female vocals in a dark lower register, tender and sleepy, with small gang-vocal shouts on the hummable hook, ‑Powerful belting, ‑dramatic builds, ‑EDM drops, ‑heavy drums, ‑distorted guitars, ‑grand orchestral arrangements

[Verse 1] Sunday left the kettle warm Sunlight on the kitchen floor Someone with a crooked tail Waited by the open door I had plans to do quite little You had plans you wouldn't say So I put my old shoes on And let you choose the way [Chorus] Nowhere to be, so I'll follow you Under the fence where the daisies grew You take your time, I can do that too Nothing to do but follow you [Verse 2] Past a sheep who watched us passing Like we'd interrupted lunch You inspected seven fence posts I picked flowers in a bunch Stopped beside a little puddle Watched a beetle cross a stone You sat down to wash one shoulder I was happy on my own [Chorus] Nowhere to be, so I'll follow you Under the fence where the daisies grew You take your time, I can do that too Nothing to do but follow you [Soft instrumental interlude] [Bridge] There's a hill beyond the orchard There's a village past the stream But you've found a patch of sunshine And it seems you've changed the scheme [Final Chorus] Nowhere to be, so I'll stay with you Here in the grass with a crooked shoe Clouds drifting by in the Sunday blue Nothing to do but stay with you [Outro] My tea's gone cold And half the morning too Mm-mm, mm-mm A lovely thing to do

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