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 I fumbled in my closet for my clothes And found my cleanest dirty shirt And I shaved my face and combed my hair Stumbled down the stair to meet the day Well, I'd smoke my brain the night before With cigarettes and songs, I'd been a picking But I lit my first and watched the small kid Cussin' at a can that he was kicking Then I crossed the street and caught the Sunday Smell of someone fryin' chicken And it took me back to something That I'd lost somehow somewhere along the way On the Sunday morning sidewalk Wishing Lord that I was stoned 'Cause there's something in a Sunday Makes a body feel alone And there's nothing sure to dying That's half as lonesome as the sound On the sleeping city sidewalk And Sunday morning coming down In the park I saw a daddy with, 'The laughin' little girl' That he was swinging And I stopped beside the Sunday school And listened to the songs they were singing Then I headed back for home And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing And it echoed through the canyons Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday On the Sunday morning sidewalk Wishing Lord that I was stoned 'Cause there's something in a Sunday Makes a body feel alone