For those who've slept
For those who've kept
Themselves jacked up
How Jesus wept
Sunday
Sunday
For those in need
For those who speed
For those who try to slow their minds with weed
Sunday
Sunday
For those who wake
With a blind headache
Who must be still
Who will sit and wait
For Sunday, to be Monday
Yeah, it will be okay
Do nothing today
Give yourself a break
Let your imagination run away
For those with guilt
For those who wilt
Under pressure
No tears over spilt milk
Sunday
Sunday
Sunday
Sunday
Sunday
Yeah, it will be okay
Do nothing today
Give yourself a break
Let your imagination run away
Yeah, it will be okay
Do nothing today
Give yourself a break
Let your imagination run away
I, I, I, I, I
I, I, I, I, I
I, I, I, I, I
I, I, I, I, I
I, I, I, I, I
I, I, I, I, I
I, I, I, I, I
I, I, I, I, I
I, I, I, I, I
I, I, I, I, I
I, I, I, I, I
I, I, I, I, I
I, I, I, I, I
I, I, I, I, I
I, I, I, I, I
Oh, no, no, yeah
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