Sundays

[G]I met a sister in the [Am]dead of night
A gin-soaked smile, [C]worn just right
Her eyes half-blazed with the [D]color of the rising [G]sun
"Please help keep my [Am]baby fed"
A parade of silence [C]filled my head
I walked on past, my c[D]onscience keeps me on the [G]run--

Well my [D]eyes have seen the [C]coming of this [G]feeling
Where's your pity [Am]now? You've lost the strength some[C]how
When you've [D]swallowed so much [C]shit your head is [G]reeling
and you don't feel a [Am]thing no more
Immune to all life [C]has in store
[Am]Are there Sundays [G]now?  [Am] [C] [D] [G]

[G]I met a brother on the [Am]picket line
Blistered hands a [C]lot like mine
Leathered skin worn [D]in by the lessons of [G]age
I'll fight the man to my [Am]dying day
Scabs walk in and [C]take my pay
I pray this story even [D]makes it to the second [G]page--

[D]Like an angel fell by [Em]sin,
once you're gone it's [C]so damn hard
to [G]get back up a[D]gain
and I've seen my feelings whirl [Em]away
Don't look now, you're [C]headed for a [G]drop that falls [D]like [C]rain
[G] [Am] [D] [G]

I met a woman with a [Am]frozen smile
took her hand and [C]walked a while
Swore out loud the [D]woman was the world to [G]me
A year or two went [Am]through the door
I couldn't feel her [C]anymore
I knew deep down to[D]morrow was the place to [G]be--