Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head
for breakfast wasn't bad,
so I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled through my
and found my cleanest dirty shirt.
And stumbled down the stair
Well, I'd smoked my brain the night before
and watched a small kid cussin'
At a can that he was kickin'
Then I crossed the empty street
and caught the Sunday smell
Of someone fryin' chicken
And it took me back to something
On the Sunday morning sidewalks,
wishin' Lord that I was stoned
Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothing sure to do
To have as loathe as the sound
On the sleeping city sidewalks,
a Sunday mornin' comin' down
In the park I saw a daddy with a laughin'
little girl that he was swingin'
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
Then I headed back for home
a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyon
Like the disappearing dream
On the Sunday morning sidewalks
Wish long that I was stoned
Cause there's something in a Sunday
And there's nothing short of dying
Half as lonely as the sound
On the sleeping city sidewalks
On the Sunday morning sidewalks
We should know that I was there
Cause there's something in a Sunday
that makes a body feel lonely
And there's nothing sure to do,
On the sleeping city sidewalks
Sunday morning coming down
On the sleeping city sidewalks
Sunday morning coming down
4.8
