Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down (Live)

Well I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt
The beer I had for breakfast wasn'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 washed my face and combed my hair
Stumbled down the stairs to meet the day

I'd smoked my brain the night before
On cigarettes and songs that I'd been picking
But I lit my first and watched a small boy
Cussing at a can that he he'd been kicking
I crossed the empty street
Caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken
And it took me back to something
That I'd lost somewhere, somehow along the way

On a Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing Lord that I was stoned
Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes the body feel alone
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 laughing little girl he was swinging
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
Listened to the songs that they were singing
Then I headed back for home
Somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing
And it took me back to something
That I'd lost somewhere, somehow along the way

On a Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing Lord that I was stoned
Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes the body feel alone
There ain't nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleeping city sidewalk
Sunday morning coming down