1.
Well , I Cwoke up Sunday morning ,
with no Fway to hold my head, that didn`t Churt
and the Cbeer I had for breakfast ,
wasn`t abad, so I had one more for des-G7-sert
than I Cthumbled through my closet ,
for my Fclothes, found my cleanest, dirty Chirt
than I G7washed my face and combed my hair,
stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.


2.
Well I smoked my brain the night before,
with cigarets and songs that we been picking
And I lit my first and stopped to watch ,
a small kid with a can that he was kicking
Than I crossed an empty street ,
and caught the Sunday-smell of someone`s frying chicken
and it took me back to something ,
that I lost somewhere somehow along the way

CHORUS:
On a Sunday morning Fsidewalk,
wishing Lord that I was Cstoned
Cause there is something in a G7Sunday,
that makes somebody feel a-C-lone
And it`s nothing shure but Fdieing,
half as lone some as the Csound
of a sleeping city G7sidewalk,
when Sunday morning coming Cdown

3.
In a park I saw a Daddy ,
with a laughing little girl he was swinging
And I stopped beside a Sunday school ,
and listened to the songs that they were singing
Than I hadded back for home ,
and some whrer far away a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed to the canyons ,
like the dissapearing dreames of yesterday

CH:
On a Sunday morning sidewalk ....