Geneva

i'm going green
on a sunday morning
on a sunday morning
i pick apples from your eyes

i walk the streets
my lazy blue-eyed morning
my lazy blue-eyed morning
and i ride donkeys through the fire

do you remember
when i drew us both a raincloud
and we wore it like a gold crown
above the x's on our eyes

we tippytoed through your tomato garden
in your tomato garden, dear
is where i want to die

on a sunday morning
oh, on a sunday morning
oh, on a sunday morning
on a sunday morning
on a sunday morning
on a sunday morning

on a sunday morning (repeated)