Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down Ray Stevens

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 in my
Closet through 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 mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs I'd been picking
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playing with a can that he was kicking

Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell
Of someone's frying chicken

And, Lord
It took me back to something
That I'd lost somewhere
Somehow along the way