We start to move/And we break the glass We step out/And take a walk through the city We are Sunday Comics/We are Sunday Comics

Sunday Comics are just spud boys looking for real tomatoes.

My daddy Sunday Comics, mama Louisiana/You mix that Moedars with that Creole make a Khartoon Bama

La vida me da Sunday Comics/Sunday Comics me da la vida/¡Ay Dios!

Qui vigilat Sunday Comics?

Do you want my styrofoam peanuts? You can have my styrofoam peanuts — they’re in Sunday Comics.

You’re face to face with the man who sold the Sunday Comics.

Sunday Comics: Justified, ancient, roamed the land, hoped you’d understand, didn’t want to upset the apple cart, didn’t mean to cause any harm.

Our ongoing exhibit of Sunday morning casual depravity created by the usual gang of idiots.

Who said mama’s little baby liked shortening bread? Mama’s little baby likes diamonds, mama’s little baby likes Sunday Comics. Mama’s little baby likes all the fine things.