On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin' city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin' comin' down.
--Kris Kristofferson (1969)
Just because it's Sunday.
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