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Capotraste traste 3° casa 

Tom: G

 G                
well i woke up sunday mornin
C
with no way to hold my head
             G     C  G
that didnt hurt
    
and the beer i had for breakfast wasnt
Em                         D  C  C/B  A4
bad so i had one more for dessert
G
and i fumbled through my closet
b         C
for my clothes
                              G      Em
and found my cleanest dirty shirt
C           
and i shaved my face

and combed my hair
A                 
and stumbled down the stairs
              D
to meet the day



i'd smoked my brain the night before
cigarettes and songs
that i'd been pickin
but i lit my first and watched a small kid
cussin out a can he was kickin
then i crossed the empty streets and
cought the sunday smell
of someone fryin chicken
and it took me back to something
that i'd lost somehow
somewhere along the way

                       C
on the sunday mornin sidewalk
                          G
wishin lord that i was stoned
                            D   C   C/B   A4
cause theres somethin in a sunday
                           G
that makes the body feel alone
 Em                          C
and theres nothin short of dyin
                           G
half as lonesome as the sound
                         D    C    C/B    A4
on the sleepin city sidewalk
                      G
sunday mornin comin down



in the park i saw a daddy
with a laughin little girl
he was swingin
and i stopped beside
the sunday school
and listened to the song
that they were singin
then i headed back for home
and somewhere far away
a lonely bell was ringing
and it echoed through the
canyon like
the disappearing dreams
of yesterday

on the sunday mornin sidewalk
wishin lord that i was stoned
cause theres somethin in a sunday
that makes the body feel alone
and theres nothin short of dyin
half as lonesome as a sound
on the sleepin city sidewalk
sunday mornin comin down