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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 shirts
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 the songs I'd been pickin'
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playin' 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 somethin'
That I'd 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 sleepin' city sidewalk
And Sunday mornin' comin' down

In the park, I saw a daddy
With a laughin' little girl that he was swingin'
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singin'
Then I headed down the streets
And somewhere far away, a lonely bell was ringin'
And it echoed through the canyons
Like the 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 sidewalk
And Sunday mornin' comin' down