Laughter and good fucking,
You only saw the Sunday Morning in me, and not the Monday night.
Couldn’t stand to notice the beauty of my kids reciting bible verses and humming songs of heart break.
Nah, I was only Sunday Morning to you,
Limited to the tension formed when skins melted into one another,
The sound of my lavender skirt dropping,
All the eagerness to get you home,
The red lights shining in my eyes, as you hand me that drink,
Your friends smile and give you dap, You da man,
As I am stripped naked of everything,
My babies, my two degrees, the pride in my father’s eyes.
You da man,
For I am stuck,
Stuck being a Sunday Morning,
A ho, whore, thotianna, Lionell Richie type of fool,
I was only easy to you,
Just like a Sunday Morning.