Lyrics
Jet trails cut across a Winthrop County sky
That's why I reckon Sunday is a good day to die
There's a beautiful black Gelding, and he's waitin' there for me
Pissed off and raisin' neck hairs out in shoot number three
Last night they were pullin' pints of pesky Pendleton
Snuck away from the fire, slept there with the grass and wind
I looked up at heaven, saw how small I really was
I wanna build a house and burn it down just because
And you're smirking like an asshole
With a cheek full of tobacco
In the back of some Bronco
In a town you've never been
Nothin' fun happens after you turn 25
If I make it out at all, I pray you're right here by my side
And if I'm going down, then I'm going down true
If I got anyone to thank then it'll always be you
What the hell am I doing?
Who the hell am I?
How I miss the scripture
Oh, Sunday's the day to die
And granddad sure was punchy
But loved Jesus to his core
I wanna die today, so I can learn to live for more
Nothin' fun happens after you turn 25
If I make it out at all, I pray you're right here by my side
And if I'm going down then I'm going down true
If I got anyone to thank it'll only be you
If I got anyone to thank it'll always be you
Jet trails cut across a Winthrop County sky
That's why I reckon Sunday is a good day to die
All right, boys
