Sunday Mourning

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November Cold

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It's  Sunday morning and we're getting high in our bed again
I get up to make our coffee and I pass by the grandfather clock
But all I see are my mother's crystals
My reflection staring back at me
And her ashes that sit just below

It's  Sunday morning and I'm stuck in my own head again
And I know she'll never come back
It feels like I'm in a dream
But then I realize that some day death will come for me too
And I hope it comes in silence, just like it did for you

And I wanted you to know, that Grey's been helping me all the way through
So just you rest and when my time comes, you're the first soul that I'm coming to

It's Sunday Mourning
It's Sunday Mourning

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