Besedila: Tree63. Sunday. Sunday.

Nothing?s sacred, the days are cheap
Truth is thin on the ground
Still our prophets are crucified
Nobody believes we?re stumbling
It?s Friday, but Sunday is coming

Someone?s saying a prayer tonight
For hungry mouths to be filled
Someone kneels in the dark somewhere
And darkness is already crumbling
It?s Friday, but Sunday comes

Sunday ? Hallelujah ? it?s not so far, it?s not so far away
Sunday ? Hallelujah ? it?s not so far, it?s not so far away

Broken promises, weary hearts
But one promise remains:
Crucified, he will come again
It?s Friday, but Sunday is coming
It?s Friday, but Sunday is coming

Sunday?