Sunday Times
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Lyrics
Half the moon with your rhythm
Pulling sleeves through the sun
Bright eyed stoned to the lead on
Right, i'll scroll through the lone
Ooo,ooo
Dad, I've forf'd all my dreaming
Tied my stone for her find
Boy, I flew through the mid morn
All my faith in her light
Ooo,ooo
I don't want be the Sunday times
All I wither
Aint mine
I don't want be the Sunday times
All I wither
Aint mine