Clay Walker - Seven Sundays Lyrics
This tie's fitting just a little too tightMight have had one too many last nightI wonder if it's written all over my faceIt's been a little while since I've seen this placeStill I'm sitting here in the back rowLike a long lost son is come back homeWhen I bow my head and taken off my hatA Sunday morning takes me backGrowing up under that hometown church steepleLearning God hates sin but still loves peopleThe preacher preaching 'bout the Promised LandAnd me thinking 'bout holding Jesse Lane's handAnd one hot summer when I was thirteenTook my soul to the river and washed it cleanFeels so good, Lord, why can't there beSeven Sundays a week?Well, I can still hear daddy singing strong and lowIt is well, it is well with my soulAnd mama laid up the Sunday bestI can still count every flower on her blue sun dressI've done a lot of living since those daysBut a boy comes back when he's been raisedGrowing up under that hometown church steepleLearning God hates sin but still loves peopleThe preacher preaching 'bout the Promised LandAnd me thinking 'bout holding Jesse Lane's handAnd one hot summer when I was thirteenTook my soul to the river and washed it cleanFeels so good, Lord, why can't there beSeven Sundays a week?It was soft ball gamesAnd it was true love waitsAnd all of those amazing thingsAbout amazing graceGrowing up under that hometown church steepleLearning God hates sin but still loves peopleThe preacher preaching 'bout the Promised LandAnd me thinking 'bout holding Jesse Lane's handAnd one hot summer when I was thirteenTook my soul to the river and washed it cleanIt feels so good, Lord, why can't there beSeven Sundays a week?Seven Sundays a week
