sunday morning 10am
i wake to find my preacher friend
screamin’ at me through my tv,
that all i’ve done is wrong.
standing there with his righteous self
he’s lost some faith, he’s gained some wealth.
i don’t comprehend that i need to send
i hope you hear my song.
because i’m lonely, but i don’t need you
to tell me how to make it through.
12 a.m. on a sat*rday
i walk the streets to my dismay,
my preacher friend on the strip again,
i look at him and smile.
i can figure this out on my own,
i don’t need you to tell i’m wrong,
i’m just lonely!