Luyện nghe bài hát Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down

Well I up Sunday morning
With no way to my hand, didn't hurt
And the I had for breakfast wasn't bad
So I had one more for

Then I fumbled my closet for my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty
And I shaved my face and combed my
And down the stairs to meet the day

I'd my brain the night before
cigarettes and the songs that I'd been pickin'
But I lit my first and watched a kid
at a can that he was kicking

Then I crossed the empty
And caught the smell of someone fryin' chicken
And it me back to somethin'
That I'd lost somehow, somewhere the way

On the Sunday morning
Lord that I was stoned
'Cause something in a Sunday
That makes a body alone

And there's nothin' of dyin'
Half as lonesome as the
On the sleepin' city
Sunday comin' down

In the I saw a daddy
With a laughin' little girl who he was
And I stopped a Sunday school
And listened to the that they were singin'

I headed back for home
And far away a lonely bell was ringin'
And it echoed the canyons
Like the dreams of yesterday

On the Sunday sidewalk
Wishing Lord that I was
there's something in a Sunday
That a body feel alone

And there's short of dyin'
as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city
Sunday mornin' down