well i woke up sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn t hurt and the beer i had for breakfast wouldn t bad so i had one more for dessert then i fumbled through my closet for my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt and i shaved my face and combed my hair stumbled down the stairs to meet the day well i d smoked my brain the night before on cigarettes and songs i d been picking but i lit my first and watched a small boy cussin at a can that he was kicking and i crossed the empty street caught the sunday smell of someone frying chicken and lord it took me back to something 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 nothing short of dying that s half as lonesome as the sound of a sleeping city sidewalk a sunday mornin comin down in the park i saw a daddy with a laughing little girl he was swinging and i stopped beside a sunday school and listened to the songs that they were singing then i headed back for home and somewhere far away a bell was ringing and it echoed through the canyons like the disappearing dreams of yesterday on a sunday morning sidewalk lord i m wishing i was stoned cause there s something in a sunday that makes a body feel alone and there s nothing short of dying that s half as lonesome as the sound of the sleeping city sidewalk and sunday mornin comin down