Sunday

Momma says i'm up to no good again
Couldn't make her proud though I did my best
I feel like a mess
I feel like I'm stuck in the wrong skin
I feel like I'm sick
But I'm having trouble Swallowing my medicine
Sunday
Carry me
Carry me down to the water
Wash me clean
I'm still struggling
Sunday
Bury me
Under the weight of who you need me to be
Can't you see
I'm struggling
I keep God locked in a picture frame
So I feel a little better about my numbered days
Yeah, I confess
The questions and the answers Seem to the sound the same
I'm just like the rest
Standing tall pretending not to be afraid
Sunday come around
Lift me up again
Never too proud
For a helping hand
I've been feeling down
Can you heal me now