Sunday starts to scare me
As we drive, red-faced, roaring
We are tied and tired together
But fam’ly flawed, we’re warring

My sermon touched nobody
Don’t tell me I was boring
When I shout, I just want to be heard
A storm of words comes roaring

Sunday, big fuss
Sunday, hurts us
This day only seems to tear us all apart

Let’s think of God
May we recall one claim:
Mutual shame for the other’s name,
That’s never good

On Sunday, we are seated
And with little bread, try restoring
Our hard hearts, broken every single day
They’re bound to break tonight, blood outpouring

Sunday stab wound
Sunday attuned
This day never fails to make me think of death

Let’s pray to God
May we find peace and mirth
In the midst of our deathly rebirth

You are dressed quite impeccably
Such a shame it surely would be
To tear your veil, O bride of Christ!

The church has holy secrets
Kept hidden in a head
O how I wish I knew them
They might alleviate my dread

Sunday’s sorrows pang me
Bitter-breathed, I am ignoring
The mere thought, while everyone is mad
Of me at home, in bed, snoring

Sunday wakes me
Sunday takes me
Yes, this day claims my ears and eyes and everything

Let’s look out like God on high
I’m tired, but I’ll take a peek
In the place of…
In the face of each week, I am weak