Sunday Morning Coming Down

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 sure to dying

half as lonesome as the sound

On a sleepy city sidewalk

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 desert

Then I fumbled through my closet

for my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt

And I shaved my face and combed my hair

And stumbled down the stair to meet the day

I'd smoke my brain the night before

with cigarettes and songs I'd been a picking

But I lit my first and watched the small kid

cussin' at a can that he was kicking

Then I crossed the empty street and caught

The Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken

And it took me back to something

that I'd lost somewhere somehow along the way

On a Sunday morning sidewalk

In the park I saw a daddy

with the laughing little girl that he was swinging

And I stopped beside a Sunday school

and listened to the songs they were singing

Then I headedback for home and somewhere

far away a lonely bell was ringing

And it echoed through the canyons

like the disappearing dreams of yesterday

On a Sunday morning sidewalk

Coming down coming down