Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head
So I had one more for dessert
Then I fumbled in my closet for my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
And I shaved my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs
I'd smoked my brain the night before
With cigarettes and songs
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Cussin' at a can that he was kicking
Then I crossed the empty street
smell of someone fryin' chicken
to something that I'd lost
On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
And there's nothin' short of dyin'
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleeping city sidewalks
Sunday morning coming down
In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughin' little girl
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
Then I headed back for home
a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the can yon
Like the disappearing dreams
On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
And there's nothin' short of dyin'
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleeping city sidewalks
Sunday morning coming down
