Album: Golden Classics Edition
(Kris Kristofferson)
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.
Then I fumbled in my closet to my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty skirt
And I washed my face and combed my hair
Stumbled down the stair to greet the day.
I'd smoke my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs I've been a picking
But I lit my first and watched the small kid cursin'
At a can that he was kicking.
Then I crossed the empty street and 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 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
Half as lonely as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
Sunday morning coming down.
In the park I saw a daddy with
The laughing little girl that he was swinging
And I stopped beside a 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 canyon
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...