Well, I woke up Sunday morning
with no way to hold my head,
And the beer I had for break
so I had one more for dessert
and found my cleanest dirty shirt
And I washed my face and combed my hair
and stumbled down the stairs
I'd smoked my brain the night before
On cigarettes and songs that
And I lit my first and watched
Cussin' at a can that he was kickin'
Then I crossed the empty street
and caught the Sunday smell
of someone frying chicken
And it took me back to something
that I'd lost somehow some
On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
Oh, there's something in a Sunday
There ain't nothin' short of dy ing
Half as lonesome as the sound
Of those sleepin' city sidewalks
Sunday mornin' comin' down
In the park I saw a daddy
with a laughing little girl
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
to listen to the song that
And I headed back for home
a lonesome bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyon
On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing Lord that I was stoned
There ain't nothing short of dying,
half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city sidewalk
Sunday mornin' comin' down
On the Sunday mornin' sidewalk
Wishin' Lord that I was stoned
There ain't nothing short of dy ing
Half as lonesome as the sighing
On those sleeping cities sidewalks