With no way to turn my head,
And the beer I had for breakfast
so I had one more for dessert
Then I fumbled through my
and found my cleaner's dirty skirt
Well, I smoked my mind the night before
With ci garettes and songs that
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
I lost somewhere somehow along the way
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing Lord that I was stoned
Cause there's something in a Sunday
Makes the body feel alone
And there's nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
All the sleepin' city sides walk
Sunday mornin' coming down
In the park I saw a daddy
with a laughin' little girl
And I stopped beside the Sunday school
and listened to the songs that
And I headed back for home
a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyon
On a Sunday morning sad morn
Cause there's something in a Sunday
that makes the body feel alone
And there's nothing short of dying,
half as lonesome as it sounds
All the sleeping cities back home
Sunday morning coming home
