"Sunday" as written by Richard Melville Hall, Burt Keyes and Sylvia Robinson....
Take your hands out of your pockets, let them into air,
Take a quiet look around you, see whose standing there,
Could it be fate that put you, right next to them right now?
Or are we all just strangers lost in a foreign crowd?

And we're closing in on Sunday and facing a war,
In moving away from the scene and gentle air,
And I have loved you, and I have been there too,
And that will never change, there's nothing you can do.

And our heavy hearts and photos are all we have to show,
And these solemn interjections of love are all we know

Do you believe me?
I'm trying to prove this, now,
Do you believe me?
I just want to move us.

Could it be fate that put you, right next to me right now?
Or are we both just strangers, lost in this foreign crowd?

Let him go,
I'm trying to prove this,
Let him go, oh.

Do you believe me?
I'm trying to prove this,
Do you believe me, now?
I just want to move us.

And, we're closing in on Sunday and facing a war,
In moving away from the scene and gentle air,
And I have loved you, and I have been there too,
And that will never change, there's nothing you could do.


Lyrics submitted by marko72

Sunday song meanings
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