| A pressed shirt, you tuck it in
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| You tie your tie, and tie it again
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| I put a little curl in my hair
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| Pink on my cheeks barely there
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| A proper skirt, hits at the knee
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| A good sweater in winter green
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| You shake the keys, downstairs
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| I hit the lights not a minute to spare
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| Slipped a five in the bible for the offering plate
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| What a beautiful picture we both made
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| You drive, I look out the window
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| It’s not right but nobody said so
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| We walk in and head to the same pew
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| And hold hands, just like we’re supposed to
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| But last night you slept on the sofa
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| And these days I don’t even know ya
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| We fight like hell but nobody knows
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| When we’re wearing our church clothes
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| We stand up we sing a hymn
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| We say a prayer for other friends
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| We’re turning to the book of John
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| I’m thinking how I can’t go on
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| But we smile and we give it our Sunday best
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| If we’re lost couldn’t tell by the way we dressed
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| You drive, I look out the window
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| It’s not right but nobody said so
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| We walk in, I head to the bedroom
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| But you don’t, you do what you want to
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| Like last week when you packed a suitcase
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| And came close to getting your own place
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| Oh that’s the stuff that nobody knows
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| When we’re wearing our church clothes
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| Oh we don’t speak
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| Don’t touch as if nobody’s watching us
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| Lord knows we’ve got it down
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| What would they say if we gave up
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| You drive, I look out the window
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| It’s not right but nobody said so
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| We walk in like we’ve never been so close
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| Miles apart but careful that it don’t show
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| When we’re wearing our church clothes |