Sunday Morning Coming Down

I woke up Sunday Morning with no way to hold my head that didn't hurt. And the beer I had for breakfast tasted good so I had one more for dessert. I stumbled to my closet for my clothes and I found my cleanest dirty shirt. I shaved my face, combed my hair, I stumbled down the stairs to meet the day. I smoked my mind the night before with cigarettes and songs that I'd been picking. And I lit my first and watched a small boy cussin at a can he was kicking. Then I crossed the empty street and I caught the Sunday smell, of someone frying, chicken and it took me back to something I lost, some how, somewhere so far away .

On a Sunday Morning side walk wishing lord that I was stoned cause there's something bout a sunday makes a body feel alone and there's nothing short of dying half as lonesome as the sound of a sleeping city sidewalk, Sunday Morning coming down. In a park I saw a daddy, a laughin little girl that he was swinging, and I stopped beside a sunday school and I listened, to the song they were singing. I headed back for home and far away I heard a lonely bell ringing and it echoed through the canyons like my disapearing dreams of yesterday. On a Sunday Morning sidewalk wishing, lord that I was stoned cause theres something bout a sunday makes a body feel alone and theres nothing short of dying half as lonesome as the sound of a sleeping city sidewalk. Sunday Morning coming down.

it's a great song I truly love but, then it puts me into a mood that feels so very lonely, it seems it's always on a Sunday when I play the song. I miss the days when I was but just a boy I guess it's the youthful boy because there are so many changes that I'm going through I feel every cigarette I smoke now. I have a Blogger friend who comes by This Blog Of Mine and leaves comments on just about every story or subject I write about. I'll call her Shmamber I like her comments and I usually consider what she suggests.

I traveled across the blogosphere and stopped by Shmambers yesterday or maybe the day before I don't really remember But, she had mentioned she was bored and she had noticed that most of the Authors she reads aren't posting on a regular basis. I'm sorry Amber I will try harder to post more often, it's just when I'm down I'm down to doing nothing. She commented that maybe when i'm down I should write about the things that are bothering me. At times I do it's, where the poems come from.

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