Текст песни Sunday - Kwaku Asante

Braiding your hair
The secrets we shared,
oh my love.

The sound of the rain,
Hitting the pane.
Oh its poetry.

Grabbing your hip,
I know you like that.
Taking a sip,
I know you want that.

Sampled nothing sweeter
My rarest, precious, mamacita yeah

Gimme that love

Lets break bread, then ill break your back
Rituals accustomed that we've grown to have
The suns down,
ill watch you while both your eyes are closed
A blind man could see I'm so,
Grateful to be involved

With you baby
Just you
Let me care for you
Ill cater to you

Every Sunday

Ohhhhhhh

Stroke in your face,
Always in first place.
It feels lovely,
such a good sign.
To lose track of time when you're here
No place id rather be,
With lucid contingency.

Broke my heart at a cost and
You fixed it for free.
Petals bloom in the winter,
A lease hold to consider.
I know you came first but
the only winner, Is me baby.

Just me
Let me care for you
Ill cater to you

Every Sunday.