Texty: Hank Snow. Sunday Morning Coming Down.

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 in my closet through my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt
Then I washed my face and combed my hair and stumbled down the stair to meet the day

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 playing with the can that he was kicking
Then I walked across the street and caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken
Lord it took me back to something that I'd lost somewhere somehow along the way

On the Sunday morning sidewalk I'm wishing Lord that I was stoned
Cause there's somethin' in a Sunday that makes a body feel alone
And there's nothin' sure to dying that's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleepin' city sidewalk and Sunday morning coming down

[ guitar ]
In the park I saw a daddy with the laughin' little girl that he was swinging
And I stopped beside a Sunday school and listened to the songs they were singing
Then I headed down the street and somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyons like the disappearing dream of yesterday
On the Sunday morning sidewalk...