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 Then 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 Then I walked across the street And caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken And oh it took me back to somethin' 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 ain't nothin' short of dyin' As half as lonesome as the sound Of a sleepin' city sidewalk And Sunday mornings coming down In the park, I saw a daddy With a laughing little girl who he was swinging And I stopped beside a Sunday school And listened to the songs that they were singing Then I headed down the streets 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 Oh, I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned Cause there's something in a Sunday That'll make a body feel alone And there ain't nothin' short of dyin' Thats half as lonesome as the sound Of a sleepin' city sidewalk And Sunday mornin' comin' down