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

And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day

I'd smoked my mind the night before

With cigarettes and the songs I'd been pickin'

But I lit my first and watched a small kid

Playin' with a can that he was kickin'

Then I walked across the street

And caught the Sunday smell of someone's fryin' chicken

And while it took me back to something

That I'd lost somewhere, somehow along the way

On a Sunday morning sidewalk

I'm wishin', Lord, that I was stoned

'Cause there's something in a Sunday

That makes a body feel alone

And there's nothing short of dyin'

That's half as lonesome as the sound

Of a sleepin' city sidewalk

And Sunday morning coming down

In the park, I saw a daddy

With a laughing little girl that he was swingin'

And I stopped beside a Sunday school

And listened to the songs they were singin'

Then I headed down the street

And somewhere far away, a lonely bell was ringin'

And it echoed through the canyons

Like the disappearin' dreams of yesterday

On a Sunday morning sidewalk

I'm wishin', Lord, that I was stoned

'Cause there's something in a Sunday

That makes a body feel alone

And there's nothing short of dyin'

That's half as lonesome as the sound

Of a sleepin' city sidewalk

And Sunday morning coming down