Luyện nghe bài hát Sunday Morning Coming Down

Well, I woke up Sunday
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 closet through my
And my cleanest dirty shirt.
Then I washed my face and combed my
And stumbled the stairs to meet the day.

I'd smoked my the night before
With cigarettes and songs I'd picking.
But I lit my and watched a small kid
with a can that he was kicking.
Then I walked the street
And caught the Sunday smell of frying chicken.
And Lord, it took me back to something I'd lost
Somewhere, along the way.

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

In the I saw a daddy
With a little girl that he was swinging.
And I stopped beside a Sunday
And listened to the they were singing.
I headed down the street,
And somewhere far away a bell was ringing,
And it echoed the canyon
Like the disappearing of yesterday.

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