Lyrics The Sundays

The Sundays

Blood on My Hands

When people say it's sad

You know it can't be bad

And on any other day I'd be soul destroyed

But now I can't afford to listen to a word they say

And of all the times we had

Oh the ultimate late night

Didn't taste right

True words that I should know

Blood on my hands

When you looked around I couldn't be found

A crime's a crime, I'll have to pay

Now I find that I'm thigh deep

Too young for the worst of my mind

You whispered behind me

"If I may make so bold"

Call it young and wild

But I ran a mile in a minute and there's no going back

True words that I should know

Blood on my hands

When you looked around I couldn't be found

A crime's a crime, I'll have to pay

True words I said to myself

As the wind chilled my bones

"Home alone, you call that a late night?"

When people say you're dead

You know you caught their eye

And on any other day I'd be soul destroyed

But that's just not the way now

I don't mind telling you

Nothing is quite what it seems

True words that I should know

Must have been blood on my hands

When you look around I couldn't be found

A crime's a crime but I don't mind

True words that I should know well

But surely by now I could say to myself

"The days are getting longer so I better get stronger fast"

Surely by now?