R. Dean Taylor Follow

Well I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head, that didn't hurts
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
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 a 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 streets and
somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'
And it echoed thru the canyon
Like the disappearing 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 your 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.