Sunday Drivers Songtext
von Carl Broemel

Sunday drivers stole my keys
Friendly fire tore my jeans
Oh, what in the world is happening to me?
Yeah, what in the world is happening to me?

I know you fall
When you′re trying to walk
And I know your faults
You're perfectly wrong

Television with rabbit ears
Never really comes in clear
Fair weather, whether any time of year
Fair weather, whether any time of year

I know you fall
When you′re trying to walk
And I know your faults
You're perfectly wrong, oh


In your own, in your own
In your own, in your own
In your own way
In your own, in your own
In your own, in your own
In your own way

Method actors pour my drinks
And tight rope walkers with two left feet
Are fair weather, whether everyone you meet
Are fair weather, whether everyone you meet

Are fair weather, whether everyone you meet
Are fair weather, whether everyone you meet
Are fair weather, whether everyone you meet
Are fair weather, whether everyone you meet

Are fair weather, whether everyone you meet
Are fair weather, whether everyone you meet
Are fair weather, whether everyone you meet
Are fair weather, whether everyone you meet

Are fair weather, whether everyone you meet