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Well i woke up sunday morning |
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With no way to hold my head, that didn't hurt |
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And the beer i had for breakfast |
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Wasn't bad so i had one more for dessert |
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Then i fumbled through my closet for my clothes |
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And found my cleanest dirty shirt |
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It's the one i'm wearin' |
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And i shaved my face and combed my hair |
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And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day |
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I'd smoked my brain the night before |
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Or i smoked so much the night before |
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With cigarettes and songs that i've been pickin' |
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My mouth was like an ashtray i'd been lickin' |
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But i lit my first and watched a small kid |
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Cussin' at a can that he was kicking |
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Then i crossed the empty street |
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And caught the sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken |
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And it took me back to somethin' |
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That i'd lost somehow somewhere along the way |
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Chorus: |
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On the sunday morning sidewalks |
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Wishing lord that i was stoned |
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'cause there is something in a sunday |
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That makes a body feel alone |
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And there's nothin' short of dyin' |
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Half as lonesome as the sound |
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On the sleepin' city side walks |
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Sunday mornin' comin' down |
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In the park i saw a daddy |
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With a laughing little girl who he was swingin' |
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And i stopped beside a sunday school |
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And listened to the song that they were singin' |
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Then i headed back for home and |
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Somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin' |
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And it echoed thru the canyon like |
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The disappearing dreams of yesterday. |
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Chorus: |
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On the sunday morning sidewalks |
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Wishing lord that i was stoned |
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'cause there is something in a sunday |
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That makes a body feel alone |
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And there's nothin' short of dyin' |
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Half as lonesome as the sound |
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On the sleepin' city side walks |
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Sunday mornin' comin' down. |