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 shaved 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 that I'd been a-picking
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Cussing at a can that he was a-kicking
Then I crossed the empty street
And 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
I'm wishing Lord that I was stoned
'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
Of a sleeping city sidewalks
Sunday morning coming down

In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl he was a-swinging
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singing
Then I headed back for home
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyon
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday

On a Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing Lord I was stoned
'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
Of a sleeping city sidewalks
Sunday morning coming down