Seven of Sundays - Curt Smith
It's alright
Got to tell myself it's alright
Everything that I envied
I have become
Where to now
Now that I've been lost and found
Buried in the afternoon
Breathless and snowbound
Safe as the ocean
Shine like a motor car
Seven of Sundays
Of course you are
Coming down
Ice cream and a towel wrapped around
Flowing hair that swallows me
Follows me down
It's okay
Twisted sheets and endless rainy days
Channels flash across your face
Silence surrounds you
Safe as the ocean
Shine like a motor car
Seven of Sundays
Of course you are
Seven of Sundays
Safe as the ocean
Shine like a motor car
Seven of Sundays
Of course you are
Seven of Sundays
Of course you are
Of course you are
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