Trip Summer Sundays lyrics

Summer Sundays by Trip

Summer Sundays lyrics

Summer Sundays

Break out the take out 
It's ten past eight now 
I swear the weather-man just said my name out 
My beds covered in red wine stains and 
She's got kind off a meg ryan face to her 
Search for my pen and pull out my ryhme book 
Perch on the bed and add a few lines to it 

She pulls me near and kisses me with sour breath 
Whispeing in my ear something 'bout the shower-head 
This is like when Clarence and Alabama met 
True romance that happened in a nano-sec 
Broken curtain rails and chairs knocked over 
And up the stairs I spy a trail of clothes I 
Lie on my pillow exhale the smoke why 
Open the window when the sex smells dope and 
Off back to sleep she goes 
I was wrong she looks more like a blonde Catherine Zeta-Jones /

At last we picked a spot 
Summer Sundays where the sun stays out past six o clock 
She sun bathes I sit and watch her and some days 
She looks in some ways like a ..

So the airs rich with drink and perfume 
My English version of Ingrid Bergman 
I�m certain when I fall asleep she's Rita Hayworth 
But when I wake up she's Elizabeth Taylor 
She's Jessica Rabbit, she's double any bond girl 
She's Bridget Bardot she's Marylyn Monroe 
But the fact is though thats not why I fell for her 
'Cos no actress can act like she acts like herself /

At last we picked a spot 
Summer Sundays where the sun stays out past six o clock 
She sunbathes I sit and watch her 
And some days she looks in some ways like a..