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 through my closet for my clothes

And found my cleanest dirty shirt

And I shaved 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, somewhere along the way

On the Sunday morning sidewalks

Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned

Cause there's something in a Sunday

That makes a body feel alone

And there's 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 lonely bell was ringin'

And it echoed through the canyons

Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday

On the Sunday morning sidewalks

Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned

Cause there's something in a Sunday

Makes a body feel alone

And there's nothin' short of dyin'

Half as lonesome as the sound

On the sleepin' city sidewalk

Sunday mornin' comin' down

Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do

Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do

Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do

Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do