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Frank Turner( Francis Edward Turner )
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Sunday Nights
Lyricist:Francis Edward Turner
Sunday nights are slow surrender It never lasts and we'll never learn We can still make this one to remember It's Sunday night and we've time to burn Tomorrow morning can wait its turn
Charge your glasses, raise a toast To the memory gained To the sleep that we lost Another weekend run to ground
Another passing coat of red Painted across our town Work is shallow, cuts are deep Who would waste two days respite?
You can't catch up on sleep So here we are, last chance saloon The ticking clock and a slow defeat It'll all be over soon
Sunday nights are slow surrender It never lasts and we'll never learn We can still make this one to remember It's Sunday night and we've time to burn Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com Tomorrow morning can wait its turn
Once more friends unto the breach Bleary eyed, the stuff of dreams Always slips out of reach Defiance dressed in crumpled clothes
Protest played out with a headache Starting late but going slow Though we know we have to be here We have tasted freer air, we don't have to care
Sunday nights are slow surrender It never lasts and we'll never learn We can still make this one to remember It's Sunday night and we've time to burn Tomorrow morning can wait its turn
All our days will fade away In hazy nights and clear mistakes So here's to us and needs that must Let's raise a toast for one last boast
'Cause it's Sunday night and we've time to burn Tomorrow morning can wait its turn
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