Текст (слова) песни: Lynn Anderson - Sunday Morning Coming Down
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 to my clothes and found my cleanest dirty skirt And I washed my face and combed my hair stumbled down the stair to greed the day I`d smoke my mind the night before with cigarettes and songs I`ve been a picking But I lit my first and watched the small kid cursin` at a 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 something that I`d lost somewhere somehow 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 lonely as the sound Of the sleeping city sidewalk Sunday morning coming down
In the park I saw a daddy with the laughing little girl that he was swinging And I stopped beside a Sunday school and listened to the songs they were singing Then I headed back for home and somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing And it echoed through the canyon like the disappearing dreams of yesterday On the Sunday morning sidewalk...
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