Summer Sundays    Break out the take out   It's ten past eight now   I swear the weather-man just said my name out   My beds covered in red wine stains and   She's got kind off a meg ryan face to her   Search for my pen and pull out my ryhme book   Perch on the bed and add a few lines to it     She pulls me near and kisses me with sour breath   Whispeing in my ear something 'bout the shower-head   This is like when Clarence and Alabama met   True romance that happened in a nano-sec   Broken curtain rails and chairs knocked over   And up the stairs I spy a trail of clothes I   Lie on my pillow exhale the smoke why   Open the window when the sex smells dope and   Off back to sleep she goes   I was wrong she looks more like a blonde Catherine Zeta-Jones /    At last we picked a spot   Summer Sundays where the sun stays out past six o clock   She sun bathes I sit and watch her and some days   She looks in some ways like a ..    So the airs rich with drink and perfume   My English version of Ingrid Bergman   I’m certain when I fall asleep she's Rita Hayworth   But when I wake up she's Elizabeth Taylor   She's Jessica Rabbit, she's double any bond girl   She's Bridget Bardot she's Marylyn Monroe   But the fact is though thats not why I fell for her   'Cos no actress can act like she acts like herself /    At last we picked a spot   Summer Sundays where the sun stays out past six o clock   She sunbathes I sit and watch her   And some days she looks in some ways like a..    these lyrics are submitted by Cherie