The End of Understanding

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 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 meet the day

I'd smoked my brain the night before

With cigarettes and songs I'd been pickin'

But I lit my first and watched a small kid

Cussin' at a can that he was kicking

Then I crossed the empty street

And caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' 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 nothin' short of dyin'

Half as lonesome as the sound

On the sleeping city sidewalks

Sunday morning coming down

In the park I saw a daddy

Laughin' little girl who he was swinging

And I stopped beside a Sunday school

And listened to the song that they were singing

Then 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

And there's nothin' short of dyin'

Half as lonesome as the sound

Sleepin' city sidewalks

Sunday morning coming down

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 nothin' short of dyin'

Half as lonesome as the sound

On the sleepin' city sidewalks

Sunday morning coming down