Well, I woke up Sunday morning
So I had one more for dessert
Then I fumbled in my closet
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
And stumbled down the stair
I'd smoked my mind the night before
But I lit my first and watched
Playing with a can that he was kicking
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of
And Lord, it took me back
to something that I'd lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down
In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs
Then I headed down the street
And somewhere far away a lonely
And it echoed through the canyons
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down
