[Originally by Johnny Cash/Kris Kristofferson]
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Well I woke up Sunday morning,
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With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt
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And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
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So I had one more for dessert
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Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes,
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And found my cleanest dirty shirt
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An' I washed my face and combed my hair,
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Stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
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I'd smoked my mind the night before,
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With cigarettes and songs that I'd been pickin'
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But I lit my first and watched a small kid,
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Playing with a can that he was kicking
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And I walked across the street,
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'n caught the Sunday smell of someone's fried chicken
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And it took me back to somethin',
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That I'd lost somewhere, somehow along the way
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On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
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Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
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'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
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That makes a body feel alone.
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And there's nothin' short of dyin',
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Half as lonesome as the sound,
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On the sleepin' city sidewalks:
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Sunday mornin' comin' down
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In the park I saw a daddy,
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With a laughin' little girl that he was swingin'
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And I stopped behind a Sunday school,
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And listened to the songs that they were singin'
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I headed down the street,
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And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'
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And it echoed through the canyons,
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Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday
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On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
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I'm Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
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'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
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That makes a body feel alone
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And there's nothin' short of dyin',
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Half as lonesome as the sound,
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On the sleepin' city sidewalk:
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Sunday mornin' comin' down
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On the sleepin' city sidewalk:
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Sunday mornin' comin' down
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Sunday Morning Coming Down
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| Me First and the Gimme Gimmes |
