It's an old Chris Christopherson tune,
by request.
Well, woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head
And it didn't hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast
Wasn't there
So I had one more for dessert
Then I fumbled through my closet
Through my clothes and found the cleanest,
dirtiest shirt.
And then I brushed my teeth and cooled my head,
stumbled down the stairs
to meet the date.
Well, I'd smoked my mind
the night before
with cigarettes and songs
that I'd been picking.
But I lived my first,
I watched a small boy cussin' at
a camp that he was kickin'
And then I walked an empty street
and smelled the Sunday smell
of someone's fryin' chicken
And it took me back to some place
That I'd lost somewhere
somehow along the way
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
I'm wishing Lord I was gone
And there's nothing short of dy ing
that's half as lonesome as the sound of
a sleeping I sit aside and watch
Every Sunday morning come down
In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughin' little girl
And he was swingin'
Then I stopped outside the Sunday school
And listen to the songs that
they were singing
And as I headed back for home
somewhere far away
Alone the bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyon
Like the disappearing dream
s of yesterday
On a Sunday mornin' side walk
I'm wishin' Lord I was stoned
Cause there's somethin' in the Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothin' sure to die
Yeah, that's half as lonesome as it sounds
Of a sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down
Oh
Thank you very much
Yep