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 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 boy [Incomprehensible] at a can that he'd been kicking I crossed the empty street Caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken And it took me back to somethin' That I'd lost somewhere, somehow along the way On a Sunday morning sidewalk I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned 'Cause there's something in a Sunday That makes a body feel alone And there ain't nothin' short of dyin' Half as lonesome as the sound Of a sleepin' city sidewalk Sunday mornin' comin' down In the park, I saw a daddy With a laughin' little girl who he was swingin' And I stopped beside a Sunday school Listened to the songs that they were singin' I headed down the road Somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin' And it echoed through the canyons Like a disappearing dream of yesterday On a Sunday morning sidewalk Oh, I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned 'Cause there's something about a Sunday That'll make your body feel alone And there ain't nothin' short of dyin' Half as lonesome as the sound Of a sleepin' city sidewalk Sunday mornin' comin' down