Well  I  woke  up  Sunday  morning
with  no  way  to  hold  my  head  that  didn't  hurt
And  the  beer  I  had  for  breakfast
wasn't  bad  so  I  had  one  more  for  desert
Then  I  fumbled  through  my  closet
for  my  clothes  and  found  my  cleanest  dirty  shirt
And  I  washed  my  face  and  combed  my  hair
And  stumbled  down  the  stair  to  meet  the  day
I'd  smoke  my  brain  the  night  bofore
with  cigarettes  and  songs  I'd  been  a  picking
But  I  lit  my  first  and  watched  the  small  kid
cussin'at  a  can  that  he  was  kicking
Then  I  crossed  the  empty  street  and  caught
The  Sunday  smell  of  someone  fryin'chicken
And  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
Cause  there's  something  in  a  Sunday
makes  a  body  feel  alone
And  there's  nothing  sure  to  dying
halfpast  as  lonesome  as  the  sound
On  a  sleeping  city  sidewalk
And  Sunday  morning  coming  down
In  the  park  I  saw  a  daddy
with  the  laughing  little  girl  that  he  was  swinging
And  I  stopped  beside  a  Sunday  school
and  listened  to  the  songs  they  were  singing
Then  I  headedback  for  home  and  somewhere
far  away  a  lonely  bell  was  ringing
And  it  echoed  through  the  canyons  like  the  disappearing  dreams  of  yesterday  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  sure  to  dying
half  as  lonesome  as  the  sound
On  a  sleeping  city  sidewlk
And  Sunday  morning  coming  down
Coming  down  coming  down