anderson, lynn
sunday morning coming down
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 desert then i fumbled in my closet to my clothes and found my cleanest dirty skirt and i washed my face and combed my hair stumbled down the stair to greet the day i'd smoke my mind the night before with cigarettes and songs i've been a-picking but i lit my first and watched the small kid cursin' at a can that he was kicking then i crossed the empty street and caught the sunday smell of someone frying chicken and it took me back to something that i'd lost somewhere somehow along the way on the sunday morning sidewalk wishing lord that i was stoned 'cause there's something in a sunday makes a body feel alone and there's nothing short of dying half as lonely as the sound of the sleeping city sidewalk sunday morning coming down in the park i saw a daddy with the laughing little girl that he was swinging and i stopped beside a sunday school and listened to the songs they were singing then i headed back for home and somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing and it echoed through the canyon like the disappearing dreams of yesterday on the sunday morning sidewalk wishing lord that i was stoned 'cause there's something in a sunday makes a body feel alone and there's nothing short of dying half as lonely as the sound of the sleeping city sidewalk sunday morning coming down