Sunday Morning Coming Down (Live)

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'd smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs I'd been pickin'
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's fryin' chicken
And 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 nothin' short of dyin'
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalks
And Sunday morning coming down

In the park I saw a daddy
With a 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 down the street
And somewhere far away, a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyons
Like a 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 nothin' short of dyin'
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleepin' city sidewalks
And Sunday morning coming down