Sunday Morning Coming Down (The Austin Sessions Version)

Well, I woke up Sunday mornin'
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 washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day

I'd smoked my brain the night before
On cigarettes and songs that I'd been pickin'
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Cussin' at a can that he was kickin'

Then I crossed the empty street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken
And it took me back to somethin'
That I'd lost somehow, somewhеre along the way

On the Sunday mornin' sidеwalks
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
Cause there's somethin' in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone

There ain't nothin' short of dyin'
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city sidewalks
Sunday mornin' comin' down

In the park, I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl who he was swingin'
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the song that they were singin'

Then I headed back for home
And somewhere far away a lonesome bell was ringin'
And it echoed through the canyons
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday

On the Sunday mornin' sidewalks
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
Cause there's somethin' in a Sunday
Makes a body feel alone

There ain't nothin' short of dyin'
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city sidewalk
Sunday mornin' comin' down

On the Sunday mornin' sidewalks
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
Cause there's somethin' in a Sunday
Makes a body feel alone

There ain't nothin' short of dyin'
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city sidewalk
Sunday mornin' comin' down