Okay, well I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head, it didn't hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad, so I had one more for dessert
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt
Then I washed my face and combed my hair and stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
I'd smoke my brain the night before on cigarettes
And songs that I'd been picking
But I lit my first and washed a small kid
Cousin had a can that he was kicking
Then I crossed the empty street and caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt

And it took me back to something that I'd lost somehow somewhere along the way
On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing the Lord that I was stoned
Oh, there's something in a Sunday
Yeah
Makes a body feel alone
There ain't nothing sure to die
Half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sound
Sunday morning coming down
In the park I saw daddy
With a laughing little girl
And we were swinging
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the music

The song that they were singing
Then I headed back for home
And somewhere far away
A lonesome bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyon
Like the disappearing dreams
Of yesterday
On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing the Lord that I was stoned
Cause there's something in a Sunday
Makes a body feel alone
There ain't nothing sure to die
Half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sound
Sunday morning coming down
Thank you!
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