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 And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day I smoked my mind the night before With cigarettes and songs I'd been picking But I lit my first and watched a small kid Playing with a can that he was kicking Then I walked across the street and caught The Sunday smell of someone frying chicken Lord it took me back to something that I lost somewhere somehow along the way On a Sunday morning sidewalk I'm 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 That?s half as lonesome as the sound Of the sleeping city sidewalk And Sunday morning coming down In the park I saw a daddy with a Laughing little girl that he was swinging And I stopped beside a Sunday school And listened to the songs that they were singing Then I headed down the street and somewhere Far away a lonely bell was ringing And it echoed through the canyon Like disappearing dreams of yesterday On a Sunday morning sidewalk I'm 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 That?s half as lonesome as the sound Of the sleeping city sidewalk And Sunday morning coming down.