Текст песни Sunday - Jerry Dixon , Raúl Esparza , Amy Spanger

Straight back and to the left!
Pick up those fucking eggs!
We′re out of milk!
Who took my rye bread!?
Four waters to table seven!
I'm sorry we don′t deliver on Sunday - I need table two for three yesterday!
Is there a list?
Harrington! Harrington!
Kaplan, K-A-P-L-A-N for seven.
Order!
No, I'm sorry those people were here first
We don't have tables for seven!
Are we in smoking?
Tension.
I′ll have the salad Niçoise and some challah bread.
Balance.
I said I wanted an omlette with no yokes, that′s why you're just a waiter!
Brunch.

Sunday in the blue silver chromimum diner
On the green, purple, yellow, red stools
Sit the fools
Who should eat at home
Instead they pay on Sunday
For a cool orange juice or a bagel
On the soft, green, cylindrical stools
Sit the fools
Drinking cinammon coffee
Or decaffinated tea
Forever
In the blue silver chromimum diner
Drips the green, orange, violet drool
From the fools
Who′d pay less at home
Drinking coffee light
And dark
And cholesterol
And bums, bums, bums, bums, bums, bums, bums, bums, bums,
People screaming for their toast
In a small Soho café
On an island in two rivers
On an ordinary Sunday
Sunday
Sunday
Brunch!