Sunday Morning Coming Down

R. Dean TaylorR. Dean Taylor 

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R. Dean Taylor

R. Dean Taylor (born Richard Dean Taylor, 11 May 1939, Toronto, Ontario, Canada) is a Canadian singer, most famous as a recording artist, songwriter and record producer for Motown Records company during the 1960s and 1970s. According to Jason Ankeny, Taylor "remains one of the most underrated acts ever to record under the Motown aegis." As a singer, American audiences know him best for his 1970 Billboard Top 5 "story song" about an Indiana murder fugitive that featured police sirens in the intro and an outro that included more sirens and a police officer warning the fugitive that he was surrounded and to give himself up. The single hit #1 in Taylor's native Canada. He is at least as well known in the UK for his hits "Gotta See Jane" and "There's a Ghost in My… more »

Year:

1970

4:14

131 Views

Playlists:

#6

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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
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 before
With cigarettes and songs
That I've been pickin'
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Cussin' at a can that he was kickin

Then I crossed the empty street and
Caught the sunday smell
Of someone fryin chicken
And it took me back to something
That I'd lost somehow
Somewhere along the way

On the sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing lord that I was stoned
Cause there's something in a sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleeping city sidewalk
Sunday morning coming down

In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl
He was swingin
And I stopped beside the Sunday school
And listened to the song
That they were singing

Then I headed back for home
And somewhere far away
A lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed thru the canyon like
The disappearing dreams of yesterday

On the sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing lord that I was stoned
Cause therels something in a sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleeping city sidewalk
Sunday morning coming down

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