Sunday Morning Coming Down (Kris Kristofferson cover)

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 dessert
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
And I shaved my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
Well I'd smoked my brain the night before
On cigarettes and songs I had been picking
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Cussing 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
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleeping city sidewalks
Sunday morning coming down
In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl who he was swinging
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the song that 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
And there's nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleeping city sidewalks
Sunday morning coming down
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 short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleeping city sidewalks
Sunday morning coming down