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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
Half as lonesome as the sound
On a sleepy city sidewalk
Sunday morning coming down
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 shaved my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stair to meet the day
I'd smoke my brain the night before
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
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
Coming down coming down
