Sunday Rider - David Gates

Sunday riders-ridin' out along the highway

Sunday gliders-glidin' up along the skyway

Some must fly and some must speed

To satisfy the human need

Paper dresses-wear them once and throw

Away

Plastic flowers-try to smell them anyway

No matter what the future brings

Nothin’s like the real things

Sunday lovers-sneakin' in forsaken places

Under covers-so's to hide the guilty faces

Take my wife and take my pay

But don’t take my Sunday lady from me