Little pieces, of you
Scattered round the bedroom, littered round the saloon.
Little pieces, of your broken heart
Being cleaned up by the maid, who said she wished you’d stayed

You left, for the countryside, you left before I got to say,
Baby I’d like a ride

Oh we could go, Sunday driving,
My scarf in the air, my fingers through your hair
We could go Sunday driving,
Through the country side, for a little ride

Little china cups, set out for tea
But they’ll stay all alone, cause there’s no one home
I followed you, to the train tracks
Said I got to get away, I said it’s just a bad day
Little china cups, cleared up by the maid
Drown my sorrows in these teas, and captured memories

We could go, Sunday driving,
My scarf in the air, my fingers through your hair
And we could go Sunday driving,
Big sunglasses for me, leather gloves you feel so free
And we could go Sunday driving
My scarf in the air, my fingers through your hair
And we could go, Sunday driving
Through the country side, for a little ride

Darling, in my dearest dream