Testo
Every sunday night
I drive over to your mother's apartment
Pick up a bottle of cheap red wine on the way
We get the T.V room to ourselves
'Cos your mother's got a new boyfriend
We get ready for scenes
That some viewers may find offensive
We pour generous glasses of wine
Draw the curtains and turn out the light
And then we turn up the volume
To drown out your mother and her boyfriend
When I see your face lit up by the screen
And I listen to the actresses scream
It all gets a little bit much
For my heart to handle
We kiss on the sofa, roll on the rug
We've finished the wine by the time that the credits scroll up
Our week begins and ends on Sunday night
We live for the Sunday Horrors
We live for the Sunday Horrors
We live