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Tim O'Brien

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Tim O'Brien

Friday, Sunday's Coming

Well, they took Him and they hung Him up upon a tree,
With a crown of thorns on Calvary.
He lifted up His head just before He died,
'Forgive them, Father,' is what He cried, 'cause

CHORUS
It's Friday, Sunday's coming,
It's Friday, Sunday's coming,
It's Friday, Sunday's coming,
Gonna rise up on that day.

Well, from that tree He went down to Hell,
And the things He suffered, no tongue can tell.
Spent three dark days and two lonely nights,
Then He stepped right out in the morning light, 'cause

to CHORUS
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Now, He walked and He talked like a natural man,
He was healing the sick with the touch of His hand.
'Cheer up, brother,' is what He said,
'Just like Me, you'll rise from the dead,' 'cause

to CHORUS

Well, nothing has changed ever since that time,
People live, they love, they suffer and die.
When my back is breaking and my poor heart bleeds,
I think about the promise that He left with me, said

to CHORUS (2x)