Sunday People Poem by Gordon David

Last night, I was out with my ex
Backseat of the car, we had sex
On Sunday, On Sunday.

It felt so good, she smelled so sweet
Just like old times kissing her feet
Until Sunday, Oh Sunday,

She is my girl, and I’m her man
We’ll make it work, I know we can
Next Sunday, Next Sunday.

We’ll talk things through, we’ll do it right
I’ll see her next Saturday night
And Sunday, Next Sunday

We’re Sunday People,
Not going to church, left in the lurch
We’re Sunday People,
We’re mowing the lawn, we’re all getting on

Sharing a drink to celebrate
Why did we ever separate?
On Sunday, On Sunday

Out road testing a brand new car
Holding on to a distant star
On Sunday, On Sunday

Working all week to buy a home
Keeping in touch by telephone
Not Sunday, Not Sunday

We’re Sunday People,
We’ll go for a drive, have dinner at five
We’re Sunday People,
A walk on the beach, no sermon to preach

We live life hot, and live it fast
God knows how long all this will last
One Sunday, One Sunday

Going to church, saying a prayer
Read the Bible, and get your share
On Sunday, On Sunday

We're Sunday People,
Reading the Good Book, No dinner to cook
We're Sunday People
Not watching TV, Now that we're holy