On a Sunday

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Haircut 100

Haircut One Hundred (also Haircut 100) are a British pop group formed in 1980 in Beckenham, London, by Nick Heyward, Les Nemes and Graham Jones. In 1981 and 1982, the band scored four UK top-10 singles: "Favourite Shirts (Boy Meets Girl)", "Love Plus One", "Nobody's Fool", and "Fantastic Day". more »

Year:

2003

4:03

95 Views

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I said that everything was my way
But could have been her way
She left me round about spring last may
And had it all her way
Someday today I'll forget about us
Travel in the rain on a hesitant day

Gathering sticks on Sunday
Makes my everything in between
Gathering sticks on Sunday
Makes me forget all I've been

I know it sounds funny but I just got in the way
Lost in his own day
Never love past honor just speak today
And had it my own way
Lost in a day on a Grey Sunday
Travel in the rain on a hesitant day

Gathering sticks on Sunday
Makes my everything in between
Gathering sticks on Sunday
Makes me forget all I've been
But everybody knows I'm someone
Gathering all his sticks in dreams

The sevenoakes of vanity
But you suffer for your jealousies
On a Sunday

We spoke out late about years of pride
The showing of both sides
Never mind this boy he's lost inside
The trouble he can't hide
Never mind this, travel in the rain
On a hesitant day on a gray Sunday

Gathering sticks on Sunday
Makes my everything in between
But everybody knows I'm someone
Gathering all his sticks in dreams

Gathering sticks on Sunday
Makes me forget all I've been
But everybody knows I'm someone
Gathering all his sticks in dreams

Suffer for your jealousies
On a Sunday

Gathering sticks on Sunday
Makes my everything in between
But everybody knows I'm someone
Gathering all his sticks in dreams

On a Sunday
On a Sunday
Never never giving you up
On a Sunday

You suffer forty feet up
Your jealousy all the work
You think of him as a fool
Because he gave you his all

No mate or buddy of mine
Is going to live to sublime
Deeper season than reason
Letting go all the time

A coward, clown and a dreamer
I find it hard to believe her
It seems that all I can do
Is tell this boy he's a fool

Making all of it up
Sending all of it up
Seems that all I can do
Is say I leaving you someday

On a Sunday
Forget all I've been
On a Sunday

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