Drinkin' In My Sunday Dress Lyrics

	作词 : McKee
	I can barely feel the sheets with all these crumbs down in my bed
	How can I get to sleep with all this buzzin' in my head
	And who'd have ever thought I'd not complain about a mess
	Serves me right I guess, this is what I get
	For eatin' crackers with my gin
	And drinkin' in my Sunday dress
	The telephone is by the bottle which is always by my bed
	From time to time I give it a rattle to make sure that it's not dead
	I will wait here for your call till I run out of cigarettes
	I love to play the part of the damsel in distress
	Flickin' ashes in my coffee
	Drinkin' in my Sunday dress
	Well I've been on the road to this and I've been on the way to this
	But who'da think it'd come to this
	Don't let on you've seen me like this
	My old transistor's sounding just as twangy as a Fender
	My radiator growls like Elvis after Sunday dinner
	I've drained my last tequila and I've thrown away the blender
	I've poured out all the wine, from now on nothing but the best
	Cognac and Patsy Cline
	While drinkin' in my Sunday dress
	Well I've been on the road to this and I've been on the way to this
	I surely ain't a hypocrite
	I've had my fun and now I must confess
	Our reverend is a kingly soul, repents ‘em on a dime
	His bible is not inked in gold, he is not the cheatin' kind
	One Sunday after meetin' I was in the greetin' line
	He said I've seen you from the altar
	Gulpin' down communion wine
	Just remember who's beside you when it's no business of mine

	zuo ci : McKee
	I can barely feel the sheets with all these crumbs down in my bed
	How can I get to sleep with all this buzzin' in my head
	And who' d have ever thought I' d not complain about a mess
	Serves me right I guess, this is what I get
	For eatin' crackers with my gin
	And drinkin' in my Sunday dress
	The telephone is by the bottle which is always by my bed
	From time to time I give it a rattle to make sure that it' s not dead
	I will wait here for your call till I run out of cigarettes
	I love to play the part of the damsel in distress
	Flickin' ashes in my coffee
	Drinkin' in my Sunday dress
	Well I' ve been on the road to this and I' ve been on the way to this
	But who' da think it' d come to this
	Don' t let on you' ve seen me like this
	My old transistor' s sounding just as twangy as a Fender
	My radiator growls like Elvis after Sunday dinner
	I' ve drained my last tequila and I' ve thrown away the blender
	I' ve poured out all the wine, from now on nothing but the best
	Cognac and Patsy Cline
	While drinkin' in my Sunday dress
	Well I' ve been on the road to this and I' ve been on the way to this
	I surely ain' t a hypocrite
	I' ve had my fun and now I must confess
	Our reverend is a kingly soul, repents ' em on a dime
	His bible is not inked in gold, he is not the cheatin' kind
	One Sunday after meetin' I was in the greetin' line
	He said I' ve seen you from the altar
	Gulpin' down communion wine
	Just remember who' s beside you when it' s no business of mine

	zuò cí : McKee
	I can barely feel the sheets with all these crumbs down in my bed
	How can I get to sleep with all this buzzin' in my head
	And who' d have ever thought I' d not complain about a mess
	Serves me right I guess, this is what I get
	For eatin' crackers with my gin
	And drinkin' in my Sunday dress
	The telephone is by the bottle which is always by my bed
	From time to time I give it a rattle to make sure that it' s not dead
	I will wait here for your call till I run out of cigarettes
	I love to play the part of the damsel in distress
	Flickin' ashes in my coffee
	Drinkin' in my Sunday dress
	Well I' ve been on the road to this and I' ve been on the way to this
	But who' da think it' d come to this
	Don' t let on you' ve seen me like this
	My old transistor' s sounding just as twangy as a Fender
	My radiator growls like Elvis after Sunday dinner
	I' ve drained my last tequila and I' ve thrown away the blender
	I' ve poured out all the wine, from now on nothing but the best
	Cognac and Patsy Cline
	While drinkin' in my Sunday dress
	Well I' ve been on the road to this and I' ve been on the way to this
	I surely ain' t a hypocrite
	I' ve had my fun and now I must confess
	Our reverend is a kingly soul, repents ' em on a dime
	His bible is not inked in gold, he is not the cheatin' kind
	One Sunday after meetin' I was in the greetin' line
	He said I' ve seen you from the altar
	Gulpin' down communion wine
	Just remember who' s beside you when it' s no business of mine

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