Luyện nghe bài hát Sunday Morning Coming Down

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

Then I fumbled in my closet through my
And found my cleanest dirty
An' I my face and combed my hair
down the stairs to meet the day

I'd smoked my the night before
With cigarettes and songs that I'd pickin'
But I lit my first and watched a kid
Playin' with a can that he was

And I walked across the
An' caught the Sunday smell of someone's fried
And it me back to somethin'
That I'd lost somewhere, along the way

On the Sunday morning
I'm wishin', Lord, that I was
'Cause something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel

And nothin' short of dyin'
Half as as the sound
On the sleepin' city
And morning coming down

In the park I saw a
With a laughin' little that he was swingin'
And I stopped a Sunday school
And listened to the songs that they were

I down the street
And somewhere far away a bell was ringin'
And it echoed the canyons
Like the dreams of yesterday

On the Sunday sidewalk
I'm wishin', Lord, that I was
there's something in a Sunday
That makes a feel alone

And nothin' short of dyin'
Half as as the sound
On the sleepin' city
And Sunday morning coming
On the sleepin' city
And Sunday morning down