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