Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down

Well, I woke up Sunday morning
 With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt
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 And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad
 So I had one more for dessert
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 Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes
 And found my cleanest dirty shirt
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 And I shaved my face and combed my hair
 And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
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 I'd smoked my brain the night before on
 Cigarettes and songs that I'd been pickin'
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 But I lit my first and watched a small kid
 Cussin' at a can that he was kicking
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 Then I crossed the empty street
 And caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken
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 And it took me back to somethin'
 That I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way
 On the Sunday morning sidewalks
 Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
 'Cause there's something in a Sunday
 Makes a body feel alone
 And there's nothin' short of dyin'
 Half as lonesome as the sound
 On the sleepin' city sidewalks
 Sunday mornin' comin' down
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 In the park I saw a daddy
 With a laughin' little girl who he was swingin'
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 And I stopped beside a Sunday school
 Listened to the song that they were singin'
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 Then I headed back for home
 And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'
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 And it echoed through the canyons
 Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday
 On the Sunday morning sidewalks
 Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
 'Cause there's something in a Sunday
 Makes a body feel alone
 And there's nothin' short of dyin'
 Half as lonesome as the sound
 On the sleepin' city sidewalks
 Sunday mornin' comin' down