| 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. | 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
