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.
Well I smoked my brain the night before
with cigarette and songs that I’d been a 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 sidewalk,
wishin’, 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 a sound,
on the sleepin’ city side walks.
Sunday mornin’ comin’ down..
In the 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 song that they were singin’.
Then I headed back for home, and
somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin’,
And it echoed thru the canyon like
the disappearing dreams of yesterday.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
wishin’, 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 a sound,
on the sleepin’ city side walks.
Sunday mornin’ comin’ down..
In the down.