Sunday Morning Coming Down

Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head
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
Combed my hair
Stumbled down the stairs
To meet the day

Well, I smoked my brain the night before
With cigarettes and songs that I'd been picking
I lit my first
Watched a small kid
Cussing at a can
That he was kicking

Then I crossed the empty street
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 a Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
On a sleepy 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 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 a disappearing dream of yesterday

On a Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
On a sleepy city sidewalk
Sunday morning coming down

'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 a sleepy city sidewalk
Sunday morning coming down