- Courtesy of Keith Anderson
She dresses up her children and she herds 'em to the car
Drives down to the mega church but can't find a place to park
Then she feels a little guilty when she takes His name in vain
So she folds her last two dollars and she drops 'em in the plate
It's Sunday morning, Sunday morning in America
His back is out of kilter from sleeping on concrete
And he'd like to have some breakfast but he'd trade it for a drink
Those early morning joggers, they're quick to pass him by
And the ones who drop a dollar, don't dare look him in the eye
Another Sunday morning, Sunday morning in America
Sunday morning, Sunday morning in America
Smell the eggs and bacon, I hear the church bells ring
Cheerleaders shaking on a big screen TV
There's Winnebago's and boats on the lake
And a red-head freckled face blows out the candles on his birthday cake
It's Sunday morning, Sunday morning in America
He's hunkered in a bunker with a rifle in his hand
Layin' his life on the line, every inch of sand
But he's dreaming about that freedom that he's been fighting for
And the arms that will wrap around him
When he comes walking through that door
Some Sunday morning, it's Sunday morning in America
Yeah, Sunday morning, Sunday morning in America
Well, I know it ain't perfect
Ya, there's a lot of things wrong in America
But I thank God for those who lay down their lives
To make this place my home
Smell the eggs and bacon, I hear the church bells ring
Cheerleaders shaking on a 57 inch big screen TV
There's trucks on a highway and sailboats on the lake
And a red-head freckled face blows out the candles on his birthday cake
It's Sunday morning, yeah, Sunday morning in America
It's Sunday morning, beautiful Sunday morning in America
Oh, Sunday morning, Sunday morning in America, in America
