Month of Sundays

Well I've been living in this month of Sundays For so long I don't remember Saturday night Broken records don't play new tunes 'Cept for once in a blue moon And I've looked but the moon is still white And I've pinned some hope to the summit of someday Someone somewhere may do something with his life A smoker's lungs don't blow balloons 'Cept for once in a blue moon And I've looked but the moon is still white Rusty guns fire rusty shots Leopards never change their spots And fireworks always fade too soon Empty words don't mean a lot And for me that's all you've got But I swear to you darling One day we'll stand beneath a blue moon I've been living in this month of Sundays And I forget what Monday morning feels like Blushing brides and handsome grooms Deep in debt from honeymoons Stare above, but the moon is still white I've wandered into wondering if one day When the war is won and one finally made two When we think not of what we're not And think only of what we've got And we'll go dancing underneath the blue moon Oh black kettles and black pots seem to fight an awful lot And make the kitchen the most uncomfortable of rooms Empty words don't mean a lot And for me that's all you've got And I swear to you darling One day we'll stand beneath a blue moon Oh oh So I've been living in this month of Sundays And I don't know when this month may be through So will you tell me that you'll wait, for as long as it may take And I swear darling, I'll show you a blue moon Oh my darling, I'll show you a blue moon --- Month of Sundays - Passenger, Elana Stone and Brian Campeau