G | |
Well, I | woke up sunday morning |
C | G | Gsus4 | G | |
with no | way to hold my head that didn't | hurt; |
G | Em | |
And the | beer I had for breakfast was not | bad, |
D7 | D7/C | D7/B | D7/A | |
so I had one more for de | sert. |
G | C | |
Then I | fumbled through my closet for my | clothes |
G | G/F# | Em | |
and found my cleanest dirty | shirt, |
C | |
And I | shaved my face and combed my hair |
Am | Am7 | D | |
and stumbled down the | stair to meet the | day. |
G | |
I'd | smoked my brain the night before |
C | G | Gsus4 | G | |
with cigarettes and songs that I'd been | pickin'; |
G | Em | |
But I | lit my first and watched a small kid |
D7 | D7/C | D7/B | D7/A | |
cussin' at a can the he was | kickin'; |
G | |
The I | crossed the empty street and caught |
C | G | G/F# | Em | |
the | Sunday smell of someone fryin' | chicken; |
C | Am7 | |
And it | took me back to | somethin' that I'd |
C | D7 | G | Gsus4 | G | |
lost somehow | somewhere along the | way. |
G | C | Csus4 | C | |
On the Sunday mornin' | sidewalks, |
G | Gsus4 | G | |
wishin', Lord, that I was | stoned, |
D | D7/C | D7/B | |
'Cause there's something in a | sunday |
D7/A | G | Gsus4 | Em | |
makes a | body feel a | lone; |
Em | G | C | Csus4 | C | |
And there's | nothin' short of | dyin' |
G | Gsus4 | G | |
half as lonesome as the | sound |
D7 | D7/C | D7/B | |
on the sleeping city's | sidewalks; |
D7/A | G | Gsus4 | G | |
Sunday | mornin' comin' | down. |
G | |
In the | park I saw a daddy |
C | G | Gsus4 | G | |
with a | laughing little girl that he was | swingin'; |
G | Em | |
And I | stopped beside a Sunday School | and |
D7 | D7/C | D7/B | D7/A | |
listened to the song that they were | singin'; |
G | |
Then I | headed back for home, and |
C | G | G/F# | Em | |
somewhere | far away a lonely bell was | ringin'; |
C | Am7 | |
And it | echoed thru the | canyon |
C | D7 | G | Gsus4 | G | |
like the | disappearing | dreams of yester | day. |