Month of Sundays

Month of Sundays - Passenger/Brian Campeau/Elana Stone

Well I've been living in this month of Sundays

For so long I don't remember Saturday night

Broken records don't play new tunes

Except for once in a blue Moon

And I have looked and the Moon is still white

And I've pinned some hope to the summit of some day

Someone somewhere may do something with this light

But smokers lungs don't blow balloons

Except for once in a blue Moon

And I've looked but the Moon is still white

Rusty guns fire rusty shots

Leopards never change their spots

And fireworks always fade to soon

Empty words don't mean a lot

And from me thats all you've got

But I swear to you one day

We'll stand beneath a blue Moon

Well I've been living in this month of Sundays

And I forget what Monday morning feels like

Blushing brides and handsome grooms

Deep in debt from honeymoons

Stare above but the Moon is still white

And I have wondered in to wondering if one day

When the war is won and one finally make two

Will we think not of what we're not

And think of only what we've got

And we'll go dancing underneath a blue Moon

Oh black kettles and black pots

Seem to fight an awful lot

They make the kitchen the most uncomfortable of rooms

Empty words don't mean a lot

And from me that's all you've got

But I swear to you darling one day

We'll stand beneath a blue Moon

Oh oh oh

Oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh

Oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh

Oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh

Oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh

So I've been living in this month of Sundays

And I don't know when this month may be through

But will you tell me that you'll wait

For as long as it may take

And I swear darling I'll show you a blue Moon

Oh my darling I will show you a blue Moon