She changed everything

About her self

For a man that was

Beneath her

 

Eclectic this

Once Bohemian that

Who could believe her newfound bliss

(Underneath) And her Sunday morning hat

 

What a life she has made

That is not her own

Now always seeking shade

Away from the heart and soul she grown

 

But Sunday morning

Only comes once a week

Six other days worth of scorning

From a carefully twisted tongue that won’t let her speak

 

Look at her Sunday morning blues

 

If she wanted to cabaret

All day, twirl and play

Finding the will to say

Is too much, so she chooses to pray for a better day and stay

 

She wears her Sunday morning hat

So the sky doesn’t see her look up

Unable to clean her feet on her own welcome mat

Horoscope reads like an upside down fortune cup

 

Everyday, she says hello to her Sunday morning blues

Looking for clues

Hiding from the Who Whos

Before they recognize a new bruise

 

Such a pretty Sunday morning blue hat