This tie's fitting just a little too tight
|
Might have had one too many last night
|
I wonder if it's written all over my face
|
It's been a little while since I've seen this place
|
|
Still I'm sitting here in the back row
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Like a long lost son is come back home
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When I bow my head and taken off my hat
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A Sunday morning takes me back
|
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Growing up under that hometown church steeple
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Learning God hates sin but still loves people
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The preacher preaching 'bout the Promised Land
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And me thinking 'bout holding Jesse Lane's hand
|
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And one hot summer when I was thirteen
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Took my soul to the river and washed it clean
|
Feels so good, Lord, why can't there be
|
Seven Sundays a week?
|
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Well, I can still hear daddy singing strong and low
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It is well, it is well with my soul
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And mama laid up the Sunday best
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I can still count every flower on her blue sun dress
|
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I've done a lot of living since those days
|
But a boy comes back when he's been raised
|
|
Growing up under that hometown church steeple
|
Learning God hates sin but still loves people
|
The preacher preaching 'bout the Promised Land
|
And me thinking 'bout holding Jesse Lane's hand
|
|
And one hot summer when I was thirteen
|
Took my soul to the river and washed it clean
|
Feels so good, Lord, why can't there be
|
Seven Sundays a week?
|
|
It was soft ball games
|
And it was true love waits
|
And all of those amazing things
|
About amazing grace
|
|
Growing up under that hometown church steeple
|
Learning God hates sin but still loves people
|
The preacher preaching 'bout the Promised Land
|
And me thinking 'bout holding Jesse Lane's hand
|
|
And one hot summer when I was thirteen
|
Took my soul to the river and washed it clean
|
It feels so good, Lord, why can't there be
|
Seven Sundays a week?
|
|
Seven Sundays a week
|
|
-----------------
|
Seven Sundays
|
| Clay Walker |
