Sunday Morning Coming Down — текст песни (Johnny Cash)

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 dessert.

Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes

And found my cleanest dirty shirt.

Then I washed my face and combed my hair

And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.



I`d smoked my mind the night before

With cigarettes and songs I`d been picking.

But I lit my first and watched a small kid

Playing with a can that he was kicking.

Then I walked across the street

And caught the Sunday smell of someone 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 stoned.

`Cause there`s something in a Sunday

That makes a body feel alone.

And there`s nothing short a` dying

That`s half as lonesome as the sound

Of the sleeping city sidewalk

And Sunday morning coming down.



In the park I saw a daddy

With a 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 canyon

Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.



On a Sunday morning sidewalk,

I`m wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.

`Cause there`s something in a Sunday

That makes a body feel alone.

And there`s nothing short a` dying

That`s half as lonesome as the sound

Of the sleeping city sidewalk

And Sunday morning coming down.