with no way to hold my head,
The beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
I fumbled through my closet for my clothes
and found my cleanest dirty shirt
I'd smoked my mind the night before
and watched a small kid cussin'
at a can that he was kickin'
Then I walked across the street
and caught the Sunday smell
of someone's frying chicken
And it took me back to something
that I lost somewhere some
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing Lord that I was stoned
Cause there's something in Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothing short of dying,
half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleep in a city sidewalk,
in a Sunday morning coming down
In the park, saw a daddy with a laughing
little girl that he was swinging
And I stopped beside the Sunday school
and listened to the songs
Then I headed down the street,
a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyons,
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing the Lord that I was stoned
Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothing sure to die in
Half as lonesome as the sound
Love asleep in a city side wall
Sunday morning coming down
Sunday morning coming down
Sunday morning coming down
Sunday morning coming down
Sunday morning coming down
Sunday morning coming down
Sunday morning coming down
Sunday morning coming down
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,
oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Some day, morning, evening, night
