well i woke up sunday mornin 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 to my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt and i shaved my face and combed my hair stumbled down the stair to meet the day well i d smoke my mind the night before with cigarettes and songs that i d been picking but i lit my first and watched the small kid cussing the can that he was kicking then i crossed the empty street and caught the sunday smell of someone frying chicken and it took me back to somethin 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 and there s nothing sure to dying half as lonesome as the sound on the sleeping city sidewalk and sunday morning coming down in the park i saw a daddy with the laughin little girl that he was swinging then i stopped beside a sunday school listened to the songs they were singing i headed back for home and somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing and it echoed through the canyons like the disappearing dreams of yesterday on the sunday morning sidewalk wishing lord that i was stoned cause there s something in a sunday makes a body feel alone 