Sunday, June 29, 2008
Sunday Morning
10.00am in my neighbourhood
Sunday Morning. Overcast sky. 9.00am.---and still dark—almost like 6.30am or 7.00am Its beautiful. Could feel the rain coming. In fact –very fine drizzle.
Decided to go out . So off to Wangsa Maju. Nice and cool.I have always loved rain – especially when it gets very dark – the wet roads, and the yellow street lights reflecting its lights on the roads. Just love it.
But for this morning, I just have to be contented with the coolness, the very fine light drizzle, the dark clouds AND the deserted roads.
Anyway the lyrics of a song came to my mind. Here is the pre-selected portion of the song.
Well I woke up Sunday morning,
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the **** 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.
An' I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An' stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.
Then I crossed the empty street,
'n caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken.
And it took me back to somethin',
That I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos 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.
Then I headed back for home,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'.
And it echoed through the canyons,
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the **** 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.
An' I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An' stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.
Then I crossed the empty street,
'n caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken.
And it took me back to somethin',
That I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos 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.
Then I headed back for home,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'.
And it echoed through the canyons,
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.
# posted by sunnyside up @ 12:05 PM 
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