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Well I woke Aup Sunday morning,
With no way to Dhold my head that didn't hurt. E A
And the beer I haAd for breakfast wasn't bad, D
So I had one more for dessert. E
Then I fumbled tAhrough my closet for my clothes, D
And found my cleanest dirty shirt. A F#m
And I shaved my Dface and combed my hair,
And stBmumbled down the stairs to meet the day. E
I'd smokedA my brain the night before,
On cigarettesD and songs, so I'd beenE picking. A
But I litA my first and watched a small kid,
CF#mussing at a can that he was kicking. E
Then I crossed thAe empty street,
caught the Sunday smell of someDone frying chicken. A F#m
And it took me bDack to something, E
That I'd lost soDmehow, somewhere along the waEy. A
On the Sunday A7morning sidewalk, D
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned. A
'Cause there's something in a Sunday, E
Makes a body fE7eel alone. A
And there's nothing A7short of dying, D
Half as lonesome as the sound, A
On the sleeping city sidewalks: E
Sunday morning comE7ing down. A
In the parAk I saw a daddy,
With a laughing littleD girl who he was Eswinging. A
And I stoppAed beside a Sunday school,
And listF#mened to the song they were singing. E
Then I headAed back for home,
And somewhereD far away a lonely bell was ringing. A F#m
And it echoed tDhrough the canyons, E
Like the disappearing drDeams of yesterday. E A
On the Sunday morning sA7idewalk, D
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned. A
'Cause there's something in a Sunday, E
Makes a bodyE7 feel alone. A
And there's nothinA7g short of dying, D
Half as lonesome as the sound, A
On the sleeping city sidewalks: E
Sunday morning comE7ing down. A
(fading)
Do do do do do dA7o do do, D
Do do do do do do do, A
Do do do do do do do do, E
Do do do do dE7o do do. A
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