Barry Manilow Sunday Father Lyrics

Sunday Father Lyrics

Hand in his hands through the park

All afternoon

A fine day to fly balloons or tell him a story

Hand in his hand to wonder

'Til day is done

Sunday Father and son



Sundays are theirs to explore

Alone by law

One day to keep the two from turning to strangers

One day to know the answers

Be firm, be fun

Sunday Father and son



The father weaves through the weekend streets

Sunday done, Monday coming on

He leaves the child by a modest home

That they share no more

With the woman who waits indoors

'Til she knows he's gone



Where are the words or the games?

A place to go

Someway to let him know you wanna be with him

Somehow it's always ending

Just half begun

Sunday Father and son

Sunday Father and son