Sunday Morning Scars

Sunday morning, I'm still in last night's dress Church bells ringing, but I'm making a mess Of my life, of my head, of the bed where you left Your half of the silence, your half of the debt I used to pray for gentle things A quiet love, a pair of wings Now I just pray I make it through Another Sunday without you THESE ARE MY SUNDAY MORNING SCARS THE ONES YOU GAVE ME IN THE BACK OF YOUR CAR I WEAR THEM PROUD, I WEAR THEM DEEP SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL THAT GREW FROM THE GRIEF I stopped believing in holy ghosts Now I believe in the things that hurt the most The sting of coffee on my tongue The way you said I was the one You left your Bible on my shelf I never read it, just blamed myself Now I open it when I can't sleep And I underline the parts that bleed THESE ARE MY SUNDAY MORNING SCARS THE ONES YOU GAVE ME IN THE BACK OF YOUR CAR I WEAR THEM PROUD, I WEAR THEM DEEP SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL THAT GREW FROM THE GRIEF I don't forgive you I don't forget But I'm not waiting for the day you regret I'm just learning how to hold the weight Of all the things I couldn't say THESE ARE MY SUNDAY MORNING SCARS I EARNED THEM ALL IN THE DARK WHERE YOU ARE YOU CAN'T TOUCH ME NOW, YOU CAN'T GET IN I'M NOT BROKEN — I'M REBUILT FROM THE SKIN Sunday morning Sunday morning I'm still here I'm still here