| There’s nothin' easy about a Sunday
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| In this church pew with my family
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| The small town where I was raised
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| Lookin' back on, all the sins of my ways
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| And theres nothin' easy about a Sunday
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| There’s somethin' lonely about this barstool
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| With this guitar playing for a crowd but none of them are you
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| When I’m thinkin' about all the hell I put you through
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| And theres somethin' lonely about this barstool
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| And I can’t make the words to what I tell you right
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| Livin' my life one glass at a time
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| As much as I’d like to sing a song that just might make you miss me
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| I can’t write a love song drinkin' whiskey
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| There’s something missin', from the old days
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| When my grandpa worked his fingers to the bone pickin' cotton and haulin' hay
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| All I can imagine is a song that I can play
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| And there’s somethin' missin' from the old days
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| There’s nothin' sober about me these days
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| In our bedroom with this guitar and that black label’s took your place
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| And it don’t burn me, no I’ve even started to like the taste
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| There’s nothin' sober about me these days
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| And I can’t make the words to what I tell you right
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| Livin' my life one glass at a time
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| As much as I’d like to sing a song that just might make you miss me
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| I can’t write a love song drinkin' whiskey
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| Drinkin' whiskey |