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. Well, I smoke my brain the night before With cigarettes and songs that 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 cookin' chicken And it took me back to something That I'd lost somewhow, somewhere along the way. On a Sunday morning sidewalk Wishing Lord that I was stoned 'Cause there's something in a Sunday
Makes a body feel alone. And there's nothing sure of dying Half as lonesome as the sound On the sleepy city sidewalk Sunday morning coming down. 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 song that they were singing. Then I headed back for home And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing And it echoed through the canyon Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday. On the Sunday morning sidewalk Wishing Lord that I was stoned 'Cause there's something in a Sunday Makes a body feel alone. And there's nothing sure of dying Half as lonesome as the sound On the sleepy city sidewalk Sunday morning coming down...