Tom: G
G C
On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
G
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stone,
D D7
'cause there's something in a Sunday,
G G7
that makes a body feel alone.
C
And there ain't nothing short of dying,
G Em
half as lonesome as the sound,
D
of a sleeping city sidewalk
D7 G C G
and Sunday morning coming down.
G
Well, I woke up Sunday morning,
C D G
with no way to hold my head that it didn't hurt.
Em
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
D D7
so I had one more for dessert.
G C
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes,
G Em
and found my cleanest dirty shirt.
C D
And I shaved my face and combed my hair,
C D D7
and stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.
G
Well, I`d smoked my brain the night before
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Em D D7
cussin' at a can that he was kickin'.
G
Then I crossed the empty street and caught
C G Em
the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken.
C D C
And it took me back to somethin' that I'd lost
D G G7
somehow, somewhere along the way.
G
In the park I saw a daddy
C D G
with a laughin' little girl that he was swingin'.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school,
Em D D7
and listened to the songs that they were singin'.
G
Then I headed back for home
C G Em
and somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'.
C D
And it echoed through the canyon,
C D G G7
like a disappearin' dream of yesterday.
Idioma
Português
