Luyện nghe bài hát Sunday Morning Coming Down

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

Then I fumbled through my closet for my
And my cleanest dirty shirt
An' I my face, combed my hair
An' stumbled the stairs to meet the day

I'd smoked my the night before
On cigarettes and songs that I'd pickin'
But I lit my first and a small kid
Cussin' at a can he was kicking

Then I crossed the street
An' caught the Sunday of someone fryin' chicken
And it took me back to
That I'd lost somehow, along the way

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

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

In the park I saw a
With a laughin' little girl who he was
And I beside a Sunday school
Listened to the song they were

Then I headed for home
And far away a lonesome bell was ringin'
And it echoed through the
Like the disappearing dreams of

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

ain't nothin' short of dyin'
Half as as the sound
On the city sidewalks
mornin' comin' down

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

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