Well I woke up Sunday morning
with no way to hold my head, that didn't hurt
and the beer I had for breakfast
wasn't bad so I had one more for dessert
then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes
and found my cleanest dirty shirt
it's the one I'm wearin'
and I shaved my face and combed my hair
and stumbled down the stairs to meet the day

I'd smoked my brain the night bef
At Last lyrics

you wrote your number on the back of his hand
he made a promise you made a plan
he was happy told all of his friends
he had found someone to release him again, at last
talk
ore
or  I smoked so much the night before
with cigarettes and songs that I've been pickin'
my mouth was like an ashtray I'd been lickin'
but I lit my first and watched a small kid
cussin' at a can that he was kicking
then I crossed the empty street
and caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken
and it took me back to somethin'
that I'd lost somehow somewhere along the way

Chorus:
 On the Sunday mo
A Herald Of Sorrow & Wretchedness lyrics

A brief commentary of Juraj Grezdo: "Here I used a lot of metaphors and comparisons, but the lyric describe the meaningless devastation of our natural wealth, the Tatras, interventions in their natur
ning sidewalks
wishing Lord that I was stoned
'cause there is something in a Sunday
that makes a body feel alone
and there's nothin' short of dyin'
half as lonesome as the sound
on the sleepin' city side walks
Sunday mornin' comin' down


In the park I saw a daddy
with a laughing little girl who he was swingin'
and I stopped beside a Sunday school
and listened to the song that they were singin'
then I hea
A Long Hard Road Out Of Hell lyrics

I want to fly into your sun
Need faith to make me numb
Live like a teenage christ
Im a saint, got a date with suicide

Oh Mary, Mary
To be this young is oh so scary
Mary, M
ed back for home and
somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'
and it echoed thru the canyon like
the disappearing dreams of yesterday.

Chorus:
On the Sunday morning sidewalks
wishing Lord that I was stoned
'cause there is something in a Sunday
that makes a body feel alone
and there's nothin' short of dyin'
half as lonesome as the sound
on the sleepin' city side walks
Sunday mornin' comin' down.