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 shirts   Then I washed my face and combed my hair   And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day      I'd smoked my mind the night before   With cigarettes and the songs I'd been pickin'   But I lit my first and watched a small kid   Playin' with a can that he was kicking   Then I walked across the street   And caught the Sunday smell of someone's fryin' chicken   And, Lord, 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 stoned   'Cause there's something in a Sunday   That makes a body feel alone   And there's nothin' short of dyin'   That's half as lonesome as the sound   Of the sleepin' city sidewalk   And Sunday mornin' comin' down      In the park, I saw a daddy   With a laughin' little girl that he was swingin'   And I stopped beside a Sunday school   And listened to the songs they were singin'   Then I headed down the streets   And somewhere far away, a lonely bell was ringin'   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 nothin' short of dyin'   That's half as lonesome as the sound   Of the sleepin' city sidewalk   And Sunday mornin' comin' down