Luyện nghe bài hát Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down

Well, I up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast bad,
So I had one for dessert.
Then I fumbled in my through my clothes
And my cleanest dirty shirt.
I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled the stairs to meet the day.

I'd smoked my mind the night
With cigarettes and I'd been picking.
But I lit my and watched a small kid
Playing a can that he was kicking.
Then I across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of frying chicken.
And Lord, it took me back to that I'd lost
Somewhere, somehow the way.

On a morning sidewalk,
I'm wishing, Lord, I was stoned.
there's something in a Sunday
That makes a feel alone.
And nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the
Of the sleeping sidewalk
And Sunday coming down.

In the park I saw a
With a laughing little that he was swinging.
And I stopped beside a school
And listened to the they were singing.
Then I headed the street,
And somewhere far away a lonely was ringing,
And it through the canyon
the disappearing dreams of yesterday.