Well I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head that
didn't hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wadn't bad so I had one

more for desert
Then I fumbled through my closet for 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'd smoke my brain the night before with cigarettes and

songs that I'd been picking
But I lit my first and watched the small kid cussin' at the
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 the Sunday morning sidewalk 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

Of the sleeping city sidewalk Sunday morning coming down

In the park I saw a daddy with the laughin' little girl

that he was swinging
And I stopped beside a Sunday school and listened to the songs
they were singing

Then I headed back for home and somewhere far away a lonely bell
was ringing
And it echoed through the canyons like the disappearing dreams

of yesterday
On the Sunday morning sidewalk...
[ guitar ]

On the Sunday morning sidewalk...
[ guitar ]