[Verse] Sunshine spilled on our checkered cloth, Laughed and sipped from an old glass jug. You said, "Pass the salt," then the words got rough, Talkin’ 'bout money like it’s love or dust. [Pre-Chorus] Hands that held sweet lemonade, Now grab at shadows and debts unpaid. [Chorus] Oh, where did our Sunday go? Picnic turned to a showdown, slow. Counting coins where the wildflowers grow, Love’s lost in the undertow. Yeah, our Sunday’s runnin’ low, Picnic turned to a showdown, oh. [Verse] We unpacked dreams in paper bags, Now the weight’s heavier, sweet to jagged. You say I never saw the cost, But here I am, the one who’s lost. [Pre-Chorus] Gravel in my throat, a bitter taste, Sunshine fading with our wasted grace. [Chorus] Oh, where did our Sunday go? Picnic turned to a showdown, slow. Counting coins where the wildflowers grow, Love’s lost in the undertow. Yeah, our Sunday’s runnin’ low, Picnic turned to a showdown, oh. [Bridge] If money’s the knife that cuts us down, I’m bleeding out on this familiar ground. Can we trade the fight for a little peace? Or is this Sunday’s fire just meant to cease? [Chorus] Oh, where did our Sunday go? Picnic turned to a showdown, slow. Counting coins where the wildflowers grow, Love’s lost in the undertow. Yeah, our Sunday’s runnin’ low, Picnic turned to a showdown, oh. [Outro] Sun’s settin’ while the silence grows, One last look, then it’s time to go. Sunday’s story in a wounded tone, Picnic’s turned into a stone.