“‘I love the brass on this song. Always have done. It takes me back to Air Studios Sunday morning recording sessions. Geoff parking his old Mercedes actually on the corner in Oxford Circus. There were lots of things you could do on a Sunday in 1983 and one of them was parking anywhere. And it was empty and peaceful. You could hear birdsong in Oxford Street on a Sunday.”
“Please do excuse the name drop here. But I sat next to Paul McCartney on an aeroplane flying into Heathrow, the one he got arrested on. And he told me, he really liked this song and really liked the guitar on it. “Was that you?” And I said yes and that moment I could have died and gone to heaven.”
I said that everything was my way
But could have been her way
She left me round about spring last may
And had it all her way
Someday today I'll forget about us
Travel in the rain on a hesitant day
Gathering sticks on Sunday
Makes my everything in between
Gathering sticks on Sunday
Makes me forget all I've been
I know it sounds funny but I just got in the way
Lost in his own day
Never love past honor just speak today
And had it my own way
Lost in a day on a Grey Sunday
Travel in the rain on a hesitant day
Gathering sticks on Sunday
Makes my everything in between
Gathering sticks on Sunday
Makes me forget all I've been
But everybody knows I'm someone
Gathering all his sticks in dreams
The sevenoakes of vanity
But you suffer for your jealousies
On a Sunday
We spoke out late about years of pride
The showing of both sides
Never mind this boy he's lost inside
The trouble he can't hide
Never mind this, travel in the rain
On a hesitant day on a gray Sunday
Gathering sticks on Sunday
Makes my everything in between
But everybody knows I'm someone
Gathering all his sticks in dreams
Gathering sticks on Sunday
Makes me forget all I've been
But everybody knows I'm someone
Gathering all his sticks in dreams
Suffer for your jealousies
On a Sunday
Gathering sticks on Sunday
Makes my everything in between
But everybody knows I'm someone
Gathering all his sticks in dreams
On a Sunday
On a Sunday
Never never giving you up
On a Sunday
You suffer forty feet up
Your jealousy all the work
You think of him as a fool
Because he gave you his all
No mate or buddy of mine
Is going to live to sublime
Deeper season than reason
Letting go all the time
A coward, clown and a dreamer
I find it hard to believe her
It seems that all I can do
Is tell this boy he's a fool
Making all of it up
Sending all of it up
Seems that all I can do
Is say I leaving you someday
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發表於 2021-2-1 22:15:55
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