Sunday Morning Coming Down

Well, I woke up Sunday mornin' 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 desert

Then I fumbled through my closet to my clothes

And found my cleanest dirty shirt

And I shaved my face and combed my hair

Stumbled down the stair to meet the day

Well, I'd smoke my mind the night before

With cigarettes and songs that I'd been picking

But I lit my first and watched the small kid

Cussing the can that he was kicking

Then I crossed the empty street and caught

The Sunday smell of someone frying chicken

And it took me back to somethin'

That I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way

On the Sunday morning sidewalk

Wishing Lord, that I was stoned

'Cause there's something in a Sunday

Makes a body feel alone

And there's nothing sure to dying

Half as lonesome as the sound

On the sleeping city sidewalk

And Sunday morning coming down

In the park I saw a daddy

With the laughin' little girl that he was swinging

Then I stopped beside a Sunday school

Listened to the songs they were singing

I headed back for home and somewhere far away

A lonely bell was ringing

And it echoed through the canyons

Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday

On the Sunday morning sidewalk

Wishing Lord, that I was stoned

'Cause there's something in a Sunday

Makes a body feel alone...