Forever Sunday

Nine o'clock Sunday, the wood is so cold At eleven,

the coffee is forty years old

Same velvet cushion, same vinyl-backed seat My roots are dug deep in

this Nebraska street

And I am not giving this up for the highway No traveling

man's gonna make me change my way Same pew and same booth,

that is my truth Here on the plains of my youth (mmm-hmm)

He said there was silver on California's coast But I know the

things that will comfort me most The preacher's soft sermon,

the diner's sweet steam I'll take this real life

over any wild dream

And I am not giving this up for the highway No traveling

man's gonna make me change my way

Same pew and same booth,

that is my truth Here on the plains of my youth (ohhh)

Forty long winters, the snow on the pane I've watched this little

town weather the rain No highway can offer what's already mine I'm

staying right here

at the end of the line

And I am not giving this up for the highway No traveling

man's gonna make me change my way

Same pew and same booth,

that is my truth

Here on the plains of my youth (yeah)

Same pew... same booth...

Forty years

true...