Sin on a Saturday Night
Words by Bryon Bowers
Another Sunday morning
Quiet and Soft
Dress clothes on
My shoes still off
Babies are crying
Purple cloth on top
The priest he is preaching
his words don't stop…
While I'm sinning with you
Saturday night you on top
you were sin on a Saturday night
confession Sunday morning set you right
smiling as the people pass on by
little baby in arms as it started to cry
purple cloth on
down to the feet
giving up vices
for one whole week
Driving around
this sleepy old town
You need help around the house
I was sent to you
extra pair of hands
it was my idea
I smiled at you
you chuckled at first
I smiled again
got my smile returned
My eyes danced on you
As I raked your yard
Back inside your house..
Air conditioner on…
Ice Tea sitting…
On your table cloth…
Sweating like crazy…
Could I use your shower…
You were my sin
On top of a Saturday night
Come Sunday Morning
It still felt right…
Open in the poetry book