Sunday Morning Coming Down

Well I woke up Sunday morning

With no way to hold my head, that didn't hurt

And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,

So I had one more for dessert.

Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes

And found my cleanest dirty shirt.

Then I washed my face and combed my hair

And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I'd smoked my mind the night before

With cigarettes and the songs I'd been pickin'

But I lit my first and watched a small kid

Playin' with a can that he was kicking

Then I walked across the street

And caught the Sunday smell of someone's fryin' chicken

And it took me back to somethin'

That I'd lost somewhere, somehow along the way.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk

I'm wishing Lord that I was stoned

'Cause there's something in a Sunday

That makes a body feel alone.

And there's nothin' short of dyin'

That's half as lonesome as the sound

Of a sleepin' city sidewalk

And Sunday mornin' comin' down.

In the park I saw a daddy

With a laughin' little girl who he was swingin'

And I stopped beside a Sunday school

And listened to the songs they were singin'

Then I headed down the street

And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'

And it echoed thru the canyon

Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday

On a Sunday morning sidewalk

I'm wishing Lord that I was stoned

'Cause there's something in a Sunday

That makes a body feel alone.

And there's nothin' short of dyin'

That's half as lonesome as the sound

Of a sleepin' city sidewalk

And Sunday mornin' comin' down.