Sunday Mornin' Comin' 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 wouldn'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

Stumbled down the stairs to meet the day



Well, I'd smoked my brain the night before

On cigarettes and songs that I'd been picking

But I lit my first and watched a small boy

Cussin' at a can that he was kicking



And I crossed the empty street

Caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken

And then it took me back to something 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's nothing short of dying

That's half as lonesome as the sound

Of a sleeping city sidewalk

A Sunday mornin' comin' down



In the park I saw a daddy

With a laughing little girl, he was swinging

And I stopped beside a Sunday school

And listened to the songs that they were singing



And I headed back for home

And somewhere far away a bell was ringing

And it echoed through the canyons

Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday



On a Sunday morning sidewalk

Lord, I'm wishing I was stoned

'Cause there's something in a Sunday

That makes a body feel alone



And there's nothing short of dying

That's half as lonesome as the sound

Of the sleeping city sidewalk

And Sunday mornin' comin' down