Luyện nghe bài hát Sunday Morning Coming Down

Well, I up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn't
And the I had for breakfast wasn't bad
So I had one for dessert

Then I fumbled through my for my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty
An' I washed my face, combed my
An' stumbled down the stairs to the day

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

Then I the empty street
An' caught the Sunday smell of someone chicken
And it took me back to
I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way

On the Sunday morning
Wishing, Lord, that I was
'Cause there's in a Sunday
Makes a feel alone

There ain't nothin' of dyin'
Half as as the sound
On the sleepin' city
mornin' comin' down

In the park I saw a
With a little girl who he was swingin'
And I stopped beside a school
to the song they were singin'

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

On the Sunday morning
Wishing, Lord, I was stoned
there's something in a Sunday
Makes a body feel

ain't nothin' short of dyin'
Half as lonesome as the
On the sleepin' sidewalks
Sunday mornin' comin'

On the morning sidewalk
Wishing, Lord, I was stoned
'Cause there's in a Sunday
Makes body feel alone

ain't nothin' short of dyin'
Half as lonesome as the
On the city sidewalks
Sunday mornin' comin'