Sunday Morning

The air's breathing
Silently singing:
"Some got nothing
Some got plenty
Just take what you need
If you ain't got nothing"
Laughing, crying
The chimes are ringing
The night is over
It is Sunday Morning

I'll make me a knife
Long and sharp and red
I'll hold it here
To protect my life
Guess that's everybody's right
Yellow, black or white
To live without no fears

I'll make me a bed
Where I can rest my head
I'll take the time I need
Though I'm tired as hell
Guess that's everybody's right
Yellow, black or white
To have a place to sleep