Vanessa Daou Sunday Afternoons Lyrics

I sit at home
at my desk alone
as I use todo
on many Sunday afternoons
when you came back to me,
your arms ached for me,
ans your arms would close me in
though they smelled of other women.

I think of you
on Sunday afternoons.

Your sweet head would bow, like child somehow,
down to me---
and your hair and your eyes were wild.

We would embrace on the floor-
You see my back's still sore.
You knew how easely I bruised,
It's a soreness I would never lose.

I think of you
on Sunday afternoons

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