Sunday Driver Songtext
von Kyle Craft

You were the loaded gun with your guitar and discount wine
And nobody heard your shot ring out and vanish there in the night
But come the morning they′ll be asking who it was and how it happened
What's the reason, what′s the boy's real name
And then they'll chain you to the
Square assign you false offenses there
And make you leave just as sick as you came

Ooh, they called you a Sunday driver
They cursed you down to the bone
They called you a Sunday driver
The city don′t belong


But you got caught at dawn in a monsoon in New Orleans
And you were halted on both coasts and every city between
And now you′ve lost a million friends
As every mile clings to your skin
And who are they to say what hurt you feel
And who are they to draw the line
To say what's yours and what is mine
And who are they to say what′s fake or real

Ooh, they called you a Sunday driver
It's wrong to write down your blues
They called you a Sunday driver
As if they walked in your shoes
They called you a Sunday driver