Lyrics Six Ways To Sunday - The Drones, Gareth Liddiard, Dan Luscombe

Six Ways To Sunday

Six ways to Sunday
Which way and for what
Would you love me any stronger
If you knew what I was not
Would you be throwing your clothes
Upon my floor like a broke umbrella
On a rainy street corner
Then come morning I am gone
Six ways to Sunday
It’s a long way off
Lord, Lord, freedom is good you know
You get to walk it forever from door to door
It used to be with the goodbyes that I couldn’t cope
Now too much is just a sweet hello
While too much is tomorrow when tomorrow won’t go
What happened to yesterday I don’t know
There ain’t no sleeping when from yesterday you’re getting torn
Strung up from the moon by your umbilical cord
Lord we hardly even met now today’s no more
Six ways to Sunday
Make it four
Yeah I came across a mob and they got to screaming
About the price of a penny like a penny you need
A penny you need, you need to fight
You got a right to thinking that you got a right
There’s a lot of you breathing the air you breathe
I don’t trust you
You don’t trust me
Which came first
Your penny or your greed
We’re only ever half way there
Now Sunday’s three
Well I woke up again cause the days they come
What better reason then to fill your tum
Shake evil feelings from your head
Turn around and go back to bed
With a lime green bottle all full of wine
All blood red and full of time
With a lime green bottle all full of fun
Why wait for Sunday to get drunk
‘Cause when Sunday comes
We’ll start new
Midnight comes creeping way to soon
The days they go like money that you spend on booze
Sunday will be two
What felt like purgatory just last week
Is starting to feel more like a toilet seat
Ain’t how you find it
It’s gonna find you, see
It’s all a matter of time of simple gravity
And if an eternity is a tick and no tock
Why do you have to talk like a clock
And why do questions leave you at a loss
You’re condemning us all to be forgotten
Drink until your mask falls rusted
Drink until you weld it shut
Drink so you don’t have to drink
I’ve heard Love and Hate are twins
And dying is to hear them singing
About birth and death and everything in between
Saturday’s shame is that Sunday’s coming
But real shame is to want for nothing