From the recording The Acoustic Highway: Love, Loss & Other Stories
Lyrics
Sunday’s Blues
Sometimes the place that you come from
Ain’t the place that you belong
Sometimes you can get it right
And still be oh so wrong
Now me I’m trying to keep it straight
To put it in a song
Just a rumbling, rambling, tumbling
Towards a place to call my own
Sometimes the ones you love the best
Are the ones that hurt you most
Sometimes you find yourself praying
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
And I find my friends are not around
When life feels just like a joke
It’s the time I find a longing
In myself, there, for the coast
This old world keep spinning around
And these old Sunday blues
Keep dragging me down
But I know
I’m better off when you are around
You’re the place my hope is found
Now I don’t know why I stayed here
In this dusty-crust old town
I should've left it long ago
Now that you ain’t been around
But courage is a virtue
That is hard-pressed to be found
And wisdom shouts from rooftops
Though it’s hard to hear the sound
This old world keep spinning around
And these old Sunday blues
Keep dragging me down
But I know
I’m better off when you are around
You’re the place my hope is found
This old world keep spinning around
And these old Sunday blues
Keep dragging me down
But I know
I’m better off when you are around
You’re the place my hope is found
Sometimes the place that you come from
Ain’t the place that you belong
Sometimes you can get it right
And still be oh so wrong
Now me I’m trying to keep it straight
To put it in a song
Just a rumbling, rambling, tumbling
Towards a place to call my own