Sunday Morning Coming Down

Well I woke up Sunday morning,
With no way to hold my head that didnt hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wasnt bad,
So I had one more for dessert
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
An I washed my face and combed my hair,
Stumbled down the stairs to meet the day

Id smoked my mind the night before,
With cigarettes and songs that Id been pickin
But I lit my first and watched a small kid,
Playing with a can that he was kicking
And I walked across the street,
An caught the Sunday smell of someones fried chicken
And it took me back to somethin,
That Id lost somewhere, somehow along the way

On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Im wishing , Lord, that I was stoned.
Cos theres something in a Sunday,
That makes a body feel alone.
And theres 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 laughin little girl that he was swingin
And I stopped behind a Sunday school ,
And listened to the songs that they were singin
I headed down the street,
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 sidewalk,
Im wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
Cos theres something in a Sunday,
That makes a bodyfeel alone
And theres nothin short of dyin,
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin city sidewalk:
And Sunday mornin comin down
On the sleepin city sidewalk:
And Sunday mornin comin down

-Fin-