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Katie Moore
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Sunday Morning Coming Down
Well, I woke up Sunday Morning
with no way to hold my head that didn't hurt
And the beer I'd had for breakfast
wasn't bad, so I had one more for dessert.
And I fumbled through my closet
through my clothes and found my cleanest, dirty shirt
And I washed my face and combed my hair
and stumbled out the stairs to meet the day
I'd smoked my mind the night before
on cigarettes and songs that I'd been picking
But I lit my first and watched a small kid playing
with a can that he was kicking.
And I walked across the street
and caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken
Lord, it took me back to something
that I 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 a body feel alone
And there's nothing short of dying
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that's 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 that he was swinging
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
listened to the song that they were singing
And I headed down the street
and somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyons
to the disappearing dreams of yesterday.
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
wishing Lord that I was stoned
Cause there's something in a Sunday
that makes a body feel alone
And there's nothing short of dying
that's half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleeping city sidewalk
Sunday morning coming down
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