Sunday Morning Coming Down

(início)

Intro  A
Well, I woke up Sunday morning
        D              E                A
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt
        A                               F#m
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad
                      E
So I had one more for dessert
       A                               D
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
                            A      F#m
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
       D                  E
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
Stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
  A
I smoked my mind the night before
 D                    E                   A
With cigarettes and songs that I'd been pickin'
                                           F#m
But I lit my first and watched a small boy
                                   E
Cussin' at a can that he'd been kickin'
 A
I crossed the empty street
 D                                         A       F#m
Caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken
      D                 E
And it took me back to somethin' that I'd lost
                              A
Somewhere, somehow along the way
A                       D
    On a Sunday morning sidewalk
                              A
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stone
                              E
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
                        A
That makes a body feel alone
                                 D
And there ain't nothing short of dying
                        A
Half as lonesome as the sound
                   E
Of a sleeping city sidewalk
                      A
Sunday morning coming down
 A
In the park I saw a daddy
      D                  E                  A
With a laughin' little girl that he'd been swingin'
 A                                     F#m
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
                                      E
Listened to the songs that they were singin'
A
I headed down the road,
D                                     A       F#m
Somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'
      D                    E
And it echoed through the canyon
                              A
Like a disappearin' dream of yesterday
A                       D
    On a Sunday morning sidewalk
                              A
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stone
                              E
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
                        A
That makes a body feel alone
                                 D
And there ain't nothing short of dying
                        A
Half as lonesome as the sound
                   E
Of a sleeping city sidewalk
                      A
Sunday morning coming down