| C | |
| Well , I | woke up Sunday morning , |
| F | C | |
| with no | way to hold my head, that didn't | hurt |
| C | |
| and the | beer i had for breakfast , |
| Am | G7 | |
| wasn't | bad, so I had one more for des- | -sert |
| C | |
| than I | thumbed through my closet , |
| F | C | |
| for my | clothes, found my cleanest, dirty | shirt |
| G7 | |
| than I | washed my face and combed my hair, |
| stumbled down the stairs to meet the day. |
| 2. |
| Well I smoked my brain the night before , |
| with cigarettes 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 |
| Ref: |
| F | |
| On a Sunday morning | sidewalk, |
| C | |
| wishing Lord that I was | stoned |
| G7 | |
| Cause there is something in a | Sunday, |
| C | |
| that makes a-body feel a- | -lone |
| F | |
| And it's nothing short but | dying, |
| C | |
| half as lone some as the | sound |
| G7 | |
| of a sleeping city | sidewalk, |
| C | |
| when Sunday morning coming | down |
| 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 headed back for home , |
| and some where far away a lonely bell was ringing |
| And it echoed to the canyons , |
| like the disappearing dreams of yesterday |
| Ref: |
| On a Sunday morning sidewalk .... |
| It's the first song, that I write to you from germany. |
| D. Queren (queren@t-online.de) |