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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 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 on cigarettes and songs that I've been pickin'
And I lit my first and watched the small kid cussin' at the can that he's kickin'
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 somehow somewhere 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
There ain't nothing sure to dying half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleepin' city sidewalk Sunday morning coming down

In the park I saw a daddy with the laughin' little girl that he was swingin'
And I stopped beside a Sunday school and listened to the song that they were singin'
Then I headed down the street and somewhere far away a lonesome bell was ringin'
And it echoed through the canyons like the disappearing dreams of yesterday
On the Sunday morning sidewalk...
On the Sunday morning sidewalk...