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

And I fumbled through my closet for my

Clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt

And I shaved my face and combed my hair and

Stumbled down the stairs to start the day

I'd smoked my brains the night before on

Cigarettes and songs that I'd been pickin'

Then I lit my first and watched a small

Kid cussin' at a can that he was kickin'

Then I crossed an empty street and caught

The Sunday smell of someone frying chicken

And it took me back to something 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 short of dying

Half as lonesome as the sound

On that sleeping city sidewalk

Sunday morning coming down

In the park, I saw a daddy with a

Laughing little girl that he was swinging

And I stopped beside the Sunday school and

Listened to the song that they were singing

Then I headed back for home, 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

And there's nothing short of dying

Half as lonesome as the sound

On that sleeping city sidewalk

Sunday morning coming down