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
And 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
Playing with a can that he was kicking
And I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone's fried chicken
And 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 nothin' short of dyin' half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city sidewalk and Sunday mornin' comin' 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 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 nothin' short of dyin' half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city sidewalk and Sunday mornin' comin' down
On the sleepin' city sidewalk, Sunday mornin' comin' down
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