I know you won't believe me if I say I have regrets
of the promises I made that have caused you to resent
my ever havin' been around to make the mess I made,

Those times I left you down and out, I wish I would have stayed.

On our last Sunday morning, I found your hand in mine,

And said I had to go in my deluded state of mind,
And I saw you on your doorstep shattered by the doubt
I put inside your heart when I said I wanted out.


And on that Sunday, you took me in your arms
and whispered, sweetly,

That all my sorry days have come and gone.

I couldn't help but fear that I had finally cut the rope,

That you'd given up on me and the strength you had to cope,
And I couldn't fight it then,
I had done it all, I know, I saw the burns upon your hands

That bled from all the pull.

And on that Sunday you took me in your arms

and whispered, sweetly,
That all my sorry days have come and gone.


I couldn't sound a word, as my world became a haze
of the memories that flooded in, some show of better days.
And I cried out once or twice after you had gone away,

But Sunday morning came and went, and I'd face the fall
on Monday.