在手机上保存，获得更好体验
Sunday Morning Coming Down - Lynn Anderson
Written by：Kris Kristofferson
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 through my closet
For my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
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
With cigarettes and songs
That I've been pickin'
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 frying chicken
And it took me back to something
That I'd lost somehow
Somewhere along the way
On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing lord that I was stoned
Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleeping city sidewalk
Sunday morning coming down
In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl
He was swinging
And I stopped beside the Sunday school
And listened to the song
That they were singing
Then I headed back for home
And somewhere far away
A lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyon like
The disappearing dreams of yesterday
On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing lord that I was stoned
Cause there is something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleeping city sidewalk
Sunday morning coming down
