Sunday Morning Coming Down - 1988 Version

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 in my closet through my clothes And found my cleanest dirty shirt Then I washed my face and combed my hair And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day I'd smoked my mind the night before With cigarettes and the songs I'd been pickin' But I lit my first and watched a small kid Playin' with a can that he was kicking Then I walked across the street And caught the Sunday smell of someone's fryin' chicken And Lord, it took me back to somethin' That I'd lost somewhere, somehow, along the way On a Sunday morning sidewalk I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned 'Cause there's something in a Sunday That makes a body feel alone And there's nothin' short of dyin' That's half as lonesome as the sound Of the sleepin' city sidewalk And Sunday mornin' comin' down In the park I saw a daddy With a laughin' little girl that he was swingin' And I stopped beside a Sunday school And listened to the songs they were singin' Then I headed down the street And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin' And it echoed through the canyon Like the disappearin' dreams of yesterday On a Sunday morning sidewalk I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned 'Cause there's something in a Sunday That makes a body feel alone And there's nothin' short of dyin' That's half as lonesome as the sound Of a sleepin' city sidewalk And Sunday mornin' comin' down