Searchin’ for the Perfect Sunday

Is it such a crime that we should waste our time
Searchin’ for the perfect Sunday?
When it’s hard to claim we’re not overdue?
It will be so fine once we cross that line
And tomorrow’s no longer just “someday”
Will we realize that dream through?

Do we put at stake our children’s fate
To take the chances laid before us
And trek into the fire from which others flee
Can we break the curse of the stuttered verse
And strike the perfect chorus, taste the air of victory?

With confidence and slight arrogance, we were heading into Arcadia
Sweet Utopia made-in-the-shade, yeah, we were definitely on our way
To shredding the gloom and owning the room
But got gnarled in a field of sticks, disappointment fell on us quick
Ye ole’ devil played his terrible trick
God, it was cold outside that day

With the severed ropes and the highest hopes
We are once again on our way to the apex of the Gilded age
To the promise of the Golden day
Now to traverse the floor and to open the door
And rejoice at how we survived
Seize a moment just to thrive, a celebration of feeling alive
God, the world is wide, please guide us on our way

Is it such a fantasy to believe we can ever arrive there some day?
Healthy, whole, and free of the servile strings
It’s not out of line to spend our time
Searchin’ for the perfect Sunday
When who knows what tomorrow brings?
What will it bring? Surely some better things
A way to break the bitter drone, and roll the favored stone
And make a world that we can own
For the seeds are sown and now they must be grown, our own