Sunday - Crocodiles

It’s Sunday, and the world does itself

For all of its faults

And it’s explosions of wealth

You, you stand naked

In front of your true love’s words

She tells you, she’s not seen worse

And the eyes of the world will still burn

And then turn away, on Sunday

This strange world

Yeah, you wear it like a crown

It’s beautiful and senseless

But it’s tragedy you’ve found

When, when you look into her eyes

You can tell she’s just as ugly

As reflections you despise

The eyes of the world will still burn

And then turn away, on Sunday