Taken from the album "Classic Cash" (c)1988 PolyGram Records
INTRO A
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 dessert
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
Stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
I smoked my mind the night before With cigarettes and songs that I'd been pickin' But I lit my first and watched a small boy Cussin' at a can that he'd been kickin' I crossed the empty street Caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken And it took me back to somethin' that I'd lost Somewhere, somehow along the way
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stone
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there ain't nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleeping city sidewalk
Sunday morning coming down
In the park I saw a daddy With a laughin' little girl that he'd been swingin' And I stopped beside a Sunday school Listened to the songs that they were singin' I headed down the road, Somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin' And it echoed through the canyon Like a disappearin' dream of yesterday