Sunday Morning Coming Down

C C Well, I woke up Sunday morning F C With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt C Am And the beer I had for breakfast, it wasn't bad G So I had one more for dessert C F Then I fumbled through closet for my clothes C Am And found my cleanest dirty shirt F Washed my face and combed my hair G Stumbled down the stairs to meet the day C I'd smoked my brain the night before F C With cigarettes and songs I'd been pickin' C Am Lit my first and stood and watched a small kid G Cuss a can that he were kicking C Started across the street F C Am And caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken F And it brought me back to something that I'd lost G C Somewhere, somehow along the way F On the Sunday morning sidewalk C Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned G 'Cause there's something in a Sunday C Makes a body feel alone F And there's nothin' short of dyin' C Half as lonesome as the sound G On the sleeping city sidewalks C G C Sunday morning coming down C In the park I saw a daddy F C With a laughin' little girl that he was swinging C And I stopped beside a Sunday school Am G And listened to the song that they were singing C Started back for home F C AM And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing F And it echoed through the canyons G C Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday F On the Sunday morning sidewalk C Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned G 'Cause there's something in a Sunday C Makes a body feel alone F And there's nothin' short of dyin' C Half as lonesome as the sound G On the sleeping city sidewalks C G C Sunday morning coming down G On the sleepin' city sidewalks C G C Sunday morning coming down