Sunday Morning Coming Down

Well, I woke up Sunday mornin'

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

An' I washed my face and combed my hair

Stumbled down the stairs to meet the day

I'd smoked my mind the night before

With cigarettes and songs that I'd been pickin'

But I lit my first and watched a small kid

Playin' with a can that he was kickin'

And I walked across the street

An' caught the Sunday smell of someone's fried chicken

And it took me back to somethin'

That I'd lost somewhere, somehow along the way

On the 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 nothin' short of dyin'

Half as lonesome as the sound

On the sleepin' city sidewalks

And Sunday morning coming 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

I'm wishin', 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

And Sunday morning coming down

On the sleepin' city sidewalks

And Sunday morning coming down