Sunday always seems to be

The day my thoughts go flying free,

And times gone by return to me,

From yesterday.

A Sunday street's a bygone street

That echoes someone else's feet,

And other voices, soft and sweet,

From yesterday.

A Sunday bell's a timeless knell

That tolling has a tale to tell,

Reminding me when all was well,

From yesterday.

Sunday is the day I find

That brings love's treasure left behind,

Faces...places... in my mind,

From yesterday