^GWell, I woke up Sunday morning With no w^Cay to hold my h^Dead that didn't ^Ghurt^D. And the b^Geer I had for breakfast wasn't ^Embad, So I had one more for dess^Dert. Then I f^Gumbled through my closet for my c^Clothes And found my ^Dcleanest dirty sh^Girt. ^Em Then I w^Cashed my face and c^Dombed my hair And ^Cstumbled down the s^Gtairs to meet the ^Dday.

I'd sm^Goked my brain the night before on ^Ccigarettes and^D songs I'd been ^Gpicking^D. But I ^Glit my first and watched a small kid ^Em Cussin at a can that he was kic^Dking. Then I w^Galked across the street And caught the ^CSunday smell of s^Domeone frying ch^Gicken.^Em And it ^Ctook me back to ^Dsomething that I'd ^Clost somehow Some^Dwhere along the ^Gway.

On a Sunday morning s^Cidewalk, Wishing, ^DLord, that I was ^Gstoned. 'Cause there's something in a ^DSunda^D7y Makes a body feel a^Glone. And there's nothing short a' ^Cdying That's half as ^Dlonesome as the s^Gound Of the sleeping city s^Didewalk^D7 And Sunday morning coming ^Gdown ^D

In the p^Gark I saw a daddy With a la^Cughing little g^Dirl who he was s^Gwinging. ^D And I s^Gtopped beside a Sunday school^Em And listened to the songs they were ^Dsinging. Then I ^Gheaded down the street and somewhere f^Car away a l^Donesome bell wa^Gs ringi^Emng And it ^Cechoed through the ^Dcanyon Like the ^Cdisappearing ^Ddreams of ^Gyesterday

On a Sunday morning s^Cidewalk, I'm wishing, ^DLord, that I was st^Goned. 'Cause there's something in a ^DSunday^D7 That makes a body feel a^Glone. And there's nothing short a' ^Cdying That's half as ^Dlonesome as the s^Gound Of the sleeping city s^Didewalk And Sunday morning coming ^Gdown ^D

Kris Kristofferson - Sunday morning coming down