I wake up with half of a fifth of whiskey
Sitting next to my bed
And a head aching with jigsaw dreams
And an unwanted guest
Flashes of you and what feels like a kiss
Flashes of her, in a knife-like twist
I wake in the day-after daze
From chasing you night after night
I hang over every mistake
And you are mine
These are my Sunday rites
The first step is to empty the nest
Before you arrive
And brew fresh coffee
For you to spike with
Leftover supplies
Splashes of laughter as each story spins
There are no secrets between good friends
I wake in the day-after daze
From chasing you night after night
I hang over every mistake
And you are mine
These are my Sunday rites
I wake in the day-after daze
From chasing you night after night
I hang over every mistake
And you are mine
These are my Sunday rites