MusicGu.ru

(Kris Kristofferson)



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

I found my cleanest dirty shirt

then I washed my face and combed my hair, stumbled down the stairs

to greet the day



Well I smoked my mind the night before on cigarettes and songs

that I`d been picking

then I lit my first and watched a small boy cussin` at a can

that he was kicking

then I crossed the empty street, caught the Sunday smell of someone

frying chicken

and it took me back to something that I lost somewhere somehow

along the way



CHORUS:

On a Sunday morning sidewalk

(I`m) wishing, Lord, that I was stoned

Cause there`s somethin` `bout a Sunday

that makes a body feel alone

and there ain`t nothin` short of dying

half as lonesome as the sound

of a sleeping city sidewalk

and Sunday morning coming down



In a park I saw a Daddy with a laughing little girl that he was swinging

and I stopped beside a Sunday school, listened to the songs that

they was singing

And then, far away, I heard a lonely bell a-ringin`

(Kris Kristofferson)



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

I found my cleanest dirty shirt

then I washed my face and combed my hair, stumbled down the stairs

to greet the day



Well I smoked my mind the night before on cigarettes and songs

that I`d been picking

then I lit my first and watched a small boy cussin` at a can

that he was kicking

then I crossed the empty street, caught the Sunday smell of someone

frying chicken

and it took me back to something that I lost somewhere somehow

along the way



CHORUS:

On a Sunday morning sidewalk

(I`m) wishing, Lord, that I was stoned

Cause there`s somethin` `bout a Sunday

that makes a body feel alone

and there ain`t nothin` short of dying

half as lonesome as the sound

of a sleeping city sidewalk

and Sunday morning coming down



In a park I saw a Daddy with a laughing little girl that he was swinging

and I stopped beside a Sunday school, listened to the songs that

they was singing

And then, far away, I heard a lonely bell a-ringin`

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