I pity the poor immigrant

1. Well, I woke up Sunday morning,

C D G

with no way to hold my head that it didn't hurt.

And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,

D - D

so I had one more for dessert.

G C

Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes,

G - Em

and found my cleanest dirty shirt.

C D

And I shaved my face and combed my hair,

C D D

and stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I'd smoke my mind the night before with cigarettes and songs I'd been picking
But I lit my first and watched the small kid playing with the can that he was kicking
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone's frying chicken
And Lord it took me back to something
That I'd lost somewhere somehow along the way

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,

I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stone,

D - D

'cause there's something in a Sunday,

G G

that makes a body feel alone.

And there ain't nothing short of dying,

G Em

half as lonesome as the sound,

of a sleeping city sidewalk

D G - C - G

and 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 down the street 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...

Sunday morning coming down.
G 1. Well, I woke up Sunday morning, C D G with no way to hold my head that it didn't hurt. Em And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad, D - D so I had one more for dessert. G C Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes, G - Em and found my cleanest dirty shirt. C D And I shaved my face and combed my hair, C D D and stumbled down the stairs to meet the day. I'd smoke my mind the night before with cigarettes and songs I'd been picking But I lit my first and watched the small kid playing with the can that he was kicking Then I walked across the street And caught the Sunday smell of someone's frying chicken And Lord it took me back to something That I'd lost somewhere somehow along the way C On a Sunday morning sidewalk, G I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stone, D - D 'cause there's something in a Sunday, G G that makes a body feel alone. C And there ain't nothing short of dying, G Em half as lonesome as the sound, D of a sleeping city sidewalk D G - C - G and 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 down the street 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...		Please Help To Keep This Web Site By Visiting Our Sponsors