well I woke up Sunday morning
|
with no way to hold my head
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that didn't hurt
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and the beer I had for breakfast wasn't
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bad so I had one more for dessert
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then I fumbled through my closet
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for my clothes
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and found my cleanest dirty shirt
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and I shaved my face
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and combed my hair
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and stumbled down the stairs
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to meet the day
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i'd smoked my brain the night before
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with cigarettes and songs
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that I've been pickin'
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but I lit my first and watched a small kid
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cussin' at a can that he was kickin
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then I crossed the empty street and
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caught the sunday smell
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of someone fryin chicken
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and it took me back to something
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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
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with a laughing little girl
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he was swingin
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and I stopped beside the Sunday school
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and listened to the song
|
that they were singing
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then I headed back for home
|
and somewhere far away
|
a lonely bell was ringing
|
and it echoed thru the canyon like
|
the disappearing dreams of yesterday
|
|
on the sunday morning sidewalk
|
wishing lord that I was stoned
|
cause therels 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
|
|
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|
Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down
|
Shawn Mullins |