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

Stumbled down the stairs to meet the day

I'd smoked my mind the night before

With cigarettes and songs that I'd been pickin'

But I lit my first and watched a small boy

[Incomprehensible] at a can that he'd been kicking

I crossed the empty street

Caught the Sunday smell of someone 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 ain't nothin' short of dyin'

Half as lonesome as the sound

Of a sleepin' city sidewalk

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

Listened to the songs that they were singin'

I headed down the road

Somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'

And it echoed through the canyons

Like a disappearing dream of yesterday

On a Sunday morning sidewalk

Oh, I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned

'Cause there's something about a Sunday

That'll make your body feel alone

And there ain't nothin' short of dyin'

Half as lonesome as the sound

Of a sleepin' city sidewalk

Sunday mornin' comin' down