with no way to hold my head,
And the beer I had for breakfast
and found my cleaner's dirty shirt
stumbled down the stairs to greet the day
I smoked my mind the night before
Were cigarettes and songs
and watched a small kid cussing
at a can he'd been a -kickin'
I crossed the empty street
and caught the Sunday smell
of someone cookin' chicken
And it took me back to something
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing Lord that I was stoned
And there's nothing short of dying
It's half as lonesome as it sounds
I was sleeping in city sidewalk,
Sunday morning coming down.
In the park I saw a daddy
with a laughing little girl
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
to listen to a song that they were singing.
I headed on toward a home
And it echoed in a canyon
Like the disappearing dream of yesterday
On a Sunday morning sightboard
Wishing, that I was stoned
Cause there's something in your soul
That makes a body feel alone
