a song—folk—key of E
Sunday morning, and the chuchbells are ringing, churchbells are ringing loud
out the window the children are singing, the children are dancing round
inside our bed our bodies are sleeping, our bodies are lying still
next to us the incense is steeping, burning on the window sill
today is a day for love: we don't need no Jesus above us
Sunday morning is a time for beds: we don't need no God to kiss our heads goodnight
Sunday morning and our mothers are calling, our mothers are calling out
outside the branches are falling, the branches whistling now
inside our bed, our hands our intruding, our hands are intruding ourselves
inside my room,the Bible is waiting, the Bible is still on the shelf
today is a day for love: we don't need no Father to kiss us
Sunday morning is a time for beds: we don't need no Mother to miss us there
Sunday morning, and the people are waiting, the people are waiting now
inside our bed, our sleep is degrading, our hands are caressing down
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