Wasted Early Sunday Morning

You're not the sun, it's just a light,
Waking early Sunday morning,
You're not my church,
It's just the bells,
Ringing sweetly through the house,
And in this sense of mine,
You're not this prayer.
You're still in reach,
I please myself,
Wasting early Sunday morning
You're not my lead,
You're just my help,
Talk the edge off sheer denial
And in this state of mine
You're what I want,
Nothing closeto what I need
I breathe you in x4
Suit yourself,lose myself
Breaking early Sunday morning
You're not the sun
You're not my church,
I still hold some self-control,
But in this sense of mine
I'm still too high, look no hands
I breathe you in x4