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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 Ambad, 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 ....