Luyện nghe bài hát Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down

Well I woke up morning
With no way to hold my hand, hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast bad
So I had one more for

I fumbled through my closet for my clothes
And found my dirty shirt
And I my face and combed my hair
And stumbled the stairs to meet the day

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

Then I crossed the empty
And caught the Sunday smell of fryin' chicken
And it took me to somethin'
I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way

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

And there's nothin' short of
Half as lonesome as the
On the sleepin' sidewalk
Sunday mornin' comin'

In the I saw a daddy
a laughin' little girl who he was swingin'
And I stopped beside a Sunday
And to the songs that they were singin'

Then I back for home
And somewhere far away a bell was ringin'
And it through the canyons
Like the dreams of yesterday

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

And there's nothin' of dyin'
as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city
mornin' comin' down