Sunday Best

When she's sleeping on the sofa,When she's laying in her Sunday best, 

when she's turning over Friday, I could swear I'm sleeping less and less... 

and the ocean's getting warmer, and California's on her mind, Los Angeles is tired, but we always seem to feel alright, 

but I won't... no I won't... 

Cause she's already out the door, 

she's already out of here she's already gone away...already gone away... 

When I'm coming over Sunday and I think about you all the time, 

I wonder what you're doing. I wonder why you never cry, 

When Boston's always raining, And we never ever seemed alive, 

I sung about you once now, I guess I might as well. 

Not look back.