(Kris Kristofferson) Well, I woke up Sunday mornin' 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 through my closet to my clothes And found my cleanest dirty shirt And I shaved my face and combed my hair Stumbled down the stair to meet the day. Well, I'd smoke my mind the night before With cigarettes and songs that I'd been picking But I lit my first and watched the small kid Cussing the 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 somethin' That I'd lost somehow, somewhere 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 sure to dying Half as lonesome as the sound On the sleeping city sidewalk And Sunday morning coming down. In the park I saw a daddy With the laughin' little girl that he was swinging Then I stopped beside a Sunday school Listened to the songs they were singing. I headed back for home and somewhere far away A lonely bell was ringing And it echoed through the canyons 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...