Somewhere Along The Way...

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 through my closet for 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 brain the night before On cigarettes and songs I'd been picking. Then I lit my first and watched a small kid Cussin' at a can that he was kicking. Then I crossed the empty street And caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken. And it took me back to something that I'd lost Somehow, somewhere along the way. On a Sunday morning sidewalk, Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned. 'Cause there's something in a Sunday That makes a body feel alone. There ain't nothing short a' dying 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 back for home, And somewhere far away a lonesome bell was ringing, And it echoed through the canyon Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday. On a Sunday morning sidewalk, Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned. 'Cause there's something in a Sunday That makes your body feel alone. There ain't nothing short a' dying Half as lonesome as the sound Of the sleeping city sidewalk And Sunday morning coming down. --by Kris Kristofferson