Cifras
Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down

Tono: A

Introducción:

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Well I woke up Sunday morning,
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With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
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And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
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So I had one more for dessert.
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Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes,
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And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
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And I shaved my face and combed my hair,
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And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.
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I'd smoked my brain the night before,
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On cigarettes and songs, so I'd been picking.
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But I lit my first and watched a small kid,
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Cussing at a can that he was kicking.
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Then I crossed the empty street,
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caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken.
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And it took me back to something,
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That I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way.
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On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
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Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
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'Cause there's something in a Sunday,
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Makes a body feel alone.
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And there's nothing short of dying,
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Half as lonesome as the sound,
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Sunday morning coming down.
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In the park I saw a daddy,
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With a laughing little girl who he was swinging.
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And I stopped beside a Sunday school,
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And listened to the song they were singing.
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Then I headed back for home,
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And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing.
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And it echoed through the canyons,
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Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.
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On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
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Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
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'Cause there's something in a Sunday,
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Makes a body feel alone.
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And there's nothing short of dying,
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Half as lonesome as the sound,
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Sunday morning coming down.
(fading)
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Do do do do do do do do,
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Do do do do do do do,
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Do do do do do do do do,
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Do do do do do do do.