I woke up Sunday morning 
With a 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 
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day 
Smoked my mind the night before 
With cigarettes and songs that I've been picking 
But I lit my first and watched the small kid playing with a can that he was kicking
Then I walked across the street and got a Sunday smell of someone's 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 lonesone as the sound
Of this sleeping city sidewalk 
And Sunday morning coming down 
In the park I saw a daddy with a laughing little girl that he was swinging
And I stopped beside a Sunday school and listened to the song 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 dreams of yesterday 
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 lonesone as the sound
Of this sleeping City sidewalk and Sunday morning coming down