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 dessert
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes And found my cleanest dirty shirt Then I washed my face and combed my hair Stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
I'd smoked my mind the night before The cigarettes and songs I'd been pickin' But I lit my first and watched a small kid Playin' with a can that he was kicking
Then I walked across the street Caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken Lord, it took me back to somethin' That I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way
'Cause on the Sunday morning sidewalk Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned 'Cause there's nothing like a Sunday That makes the body feel alone
And there's nothin' short of dyin' That's half as lonesome as the sound Of the sleepin' city sidewalks And Sunday mornin' comin' down
In the park I saw a daddy With a laughin' little girl 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 through the canyons Like a disappearing dreams of yesterday
On the Sunday morning sidewalk Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned 'Cause there's nothing like a Sunday That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothin' short of dyin' That's half as lonesome as the sound Of the sleepin' city sidewalks And Sunday mornin' comin' downTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.