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 dessert
then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes
and found my cleanest dirty shirt
it''s the one I''m wearin''
and I shaved my face and combed my hair
and stumbled down the stairs to meet the day

I''d smoked my brain the night before
or I smoked so much the night before
with cigarettes and songs that I''ve been pickin''
my mouth was like an ashtray I''d been lickin''
but I lit my first and watched a 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 somethin''
that I''d lost somehow somewhere along the way

Chorus:
On the Sunday morning sidewalks
wishing Lord that I was stoned
''cause there is something in a Sunday
that makes a body feel alone
and there''s nothin'' short of dyin''
half as lonesome as the sound
on the sleepin'' city side walks
Sunday mornin'' comin'' down


In the park I saw a daddy
with a laughing little girl who he was swingin''
and I stopped beside a Sunday school
and listened to the song that they were singin''
then I headed back for home and
somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin''
and it echoed thru the canyon like
the disappearing dreams of yesterday.

Chorus:
On the Sunday morning sidewalks
wishing Lord that I was stoned
''cause there is something in a Sunday
that makes a body feel alone
and there''s nothin'' short of dyin''
half as lonesome as the sound
on the sleepin'' city side walks
Sunday mornin'' comin'' down.