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[ti:Sunday Morning Coming Down] |
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[ar:johnny cash] |
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Well I woke up Sunday morning |
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with no way to hold my head that didn't hurt |
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And the beer I had for breakfast |
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wasn't bad so I had one more for desert |
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Then I fumbled through my closet |
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for my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt |
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And I washed my face and combed my hair |
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And stumbled down the stair to meet the day |
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I'd smoke my brain the night bofore |
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with cigarettes and songs I'd been a picking |
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But I lit my first and watched the small kid |
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cussin'at a can that he was kicking |
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Then I crossed the empty street and caught |
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The Sunday smell of someone fryin'chicken |
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And it took me back to something |
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that I'd lost somewhere somehow along the way |
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On a Sunday morning sidewalk |
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I'm wishing Lord that I was stoned |
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Cause there's something in a Sunday |
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makes a body feel alone |
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And there's nothing sure to dying |
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halfpast as lonesome as the sound |
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On a sleeping city sidewalk |
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And Sunday morning coming down |
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In the park I saw a daddy |
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with the laughing little girl that he was swinging |
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And I stopped beside a Sunday school |
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and listened to the songs they were singing |
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Then I headedback for home and somewhere |
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far away a lonely bell was ringing |
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And it echoed through the canyons like the disappearing dreams of yesterday On a Sunday morning sidewalk |
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I'm wishing Lord that I was stoned |
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Cause there's something in a Sunday |
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that makes a body feel alone |
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And there's nothing sure to dying |
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half as lonesome as the sound |
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On a sleeping city sidewlk |
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And Sunday morning coming down |
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Coming down coming down |