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 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 Lord, 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
Then 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