Sunday Morning Coming Down

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 desert

Then I fumbled in my closet to my clothes and found my cleanest dirty skirt

And I washed my face and combed my hair stumbled down the stair to greed the day

I'd smoke my mind the night before with cigarettes and songs I've been a picking