Sunday Dress

i can barely feel the sheets with all these crumbs down in my bed

How can i get to sleep with all this buzzin' in my head

And who'd have ever thought i'd not complain about a mess

Servers me right i guess

This is what i get

For eatin' crackers with my gin

And drinkin' in my sunday dress



The telephone is by the bottle, which is always by my bed

From time to time i give it a rattle to make sure that it's not dead

I will wait here for your call till i run out of cigarettes

I love to play the part of the damsel in distress

Flickin' ashes in my coffee

Drinkin' in my sunday dress



Well i