BOB'S MUSIC PLAYER

SUNDAY MORNING, COMING DOWN

By: Johnny Cash

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 through my clothes,
and found my cleanest dirty shirt.
Then I washed my face and combed my hair,
and stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I'd smoked my mind the night before
with cigarettes and songs I'd been pickin'.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
playin' with a can that he was kickin'

Then I walked accross the street and caught
the Sunday smell of someone's fryin' chicken.
And Lord it took me back to somethin',
that I lost somewhere, somehow along the way.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishin' Lord that I was stoned.
'Cause there's somethin' in a Sunday,
that makes a body feel alone.

And there's nothin' short of dyin',
that's half as lonesome as the sound,
of the sleepin' city sidewalks,
and Sunday morning coming down.

In the park I saw a daddy with a laughin',
little girl that he was swingin'.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school,
and listened to the songs they were singin'.

Then I headed down the streets,
and somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'.
And it echoed through the canyons,
like the disappearin' dreams of yesterday.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishin' Lord that I was stoned.
'Cause there's somethin' in a Sunday,
that makes a body feel alone.

And there's nothin' short of dyin',
that's half as lonesome as the sound,
of the sleepin' city sidewalks,
and Sunday morning coming down.