Sunday Morning Coming Down (Live at Österåker Prison, Sweden - October 1972)

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 desert

Then I fumbled through my closet

for my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt

And I washed my face and combed my hair

And stumbled down the stair to meet the day

I'd smoke my brain the night bofore

with cigarettes and songs I'd been a picking

But I lit my first and watched the 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 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

makes a body feel alone

And there's nothing sure to dying

halfpast as lonesome as the sound

On a sleeping city sidewalk

And Sunday morning coming down

In the park I saw a daddy

with the laughing little girl that he was swinging

And I stopped beside a Sunday school

and listened to the songs they were singing

Then I headedback for home and somewhere

far away a lonely bell was ringing

And it echoed through the canyons 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 nothing sure to dying

half as lonesome as the sound

On a sleeping city sidewlk

And Sunday morning coming down

Coming down coming down