| There’s an old letter tucked inside a Bible
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| Neither one she has read
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| Though every word speaks truth and revival
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| All she sees is no return address
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| She was born on a Sunday Morning
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| With angels all around
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| She was born on a sunday morning
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| Singing the sweetest sound
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| Love’s gotta way of leavin and sometimes too fast
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| And honey, you’re too young to understand
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| Ya got his same blue eyes, the way he smiled and his last name
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| Some things don’t always work out how you plan
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| But you should know
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| You were born on a Sunday Morning
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| With angels all around
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| You was born on a Sunday morning
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| Singing the sweetest sound
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| And she needs to find forgiveness, ah yeah
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| and know why he ain’t around
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| There’s a letter in a Bible that can free her now
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| Oh save her now
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| Cause you were born on a Sunday Morning
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| With angels all around
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| You were born on a Sunday morning
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| Singing the sweetest sound
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| She was born on a Sunday Morning
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| With angels all around
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| She was born on a Sunday morning
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| Singing the sweetest sound |