A D A
Well I woke up Sunday mornin'', no way to hold my head that didn''t hurt
F#m E
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn''t bad, so I had one more for desert
A D A F#m
Then I fumbled through my closet and my clothes and found my cleanest, dirty shirt
D Bm E
Then I washed my face and combed my hair and stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
A D A
I smoked my brain the night before, on cigarettes and songs I''d been pickin''
F#m E
I lit my first and watched a small kid, Cussin at a can that he was kickin''
A D A F#m
And I crossed the empty street and caught the Sunday smell of someones fryin'' chicken
D Bm D E A
And it took me back to something, that I lost somehow, somewhere along the way.
A D A
On a Sunday mornin'' sidewalk, wishin'' Lord that I was stoned
E A
''Cause there''s somethin'' in a Sunday, makes a body feel alone
D A
There aint nothin'' short of dyin'', half as lonesome as the sound
E A
On a sleepin'' city sidewalk, Sunday mornin'' comin'' down
A D A
In the park I saw a daddy, with a laughin'' little girl that he was swingin''
F#m E
Then I stopped beside a Sunday school, listen to the songs they were singin''
A D A F#m
Then I headed back for home and somewhere far away a lonesome bell was ringin''
D Bm D E A
And it echoed through the canyon, Like the disappearing'' dreams of yesterday
A D A
On a Sunday mornin'' sidewalk, wishin'' Lord that I was stoned
E A
''Cause there''s somethin'' in a Sunday, makes a body feel alone
D A
There aint nothin'' short of dyin'', half as lonesome as the sound
E A
On a sleepin'' city sidewalk, Sunday mornin'' comin'' down
A D A
On a Sunday mornin'' sidewalk, wishin'' Lord that I was stoned
E A
''Cause there''s somethin'' in a Sunday, makes a body feel alone
D A
There aint nothin'' short of dyin'', half as lonesome as the sound
E A
On a sleepin'' city sidewalk, Sunday mornin'' comin'' down
