Day 35

Day 35 – Total confirmed cases in US: 735,287

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Now that we’ve seen another way of life is possible, we can never forget it. We can’t go back to believing that the way we do things is the only way they can be done. Old routines give way to new ones and new habits might be harder to break than the old ones.

Sunday is the traditional day to take a break from the routine of life, to think about forces that are beyond our control, and also to meditate on peace, and love. Or, depending on your religion, to meditate on having a beer for breakfast.

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 in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day

I’d smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and the songs I’d been picking
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playing with a can that he was kicking
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone’s frying chicken
And Lord, it took me back to something
That I’d lost somewhere, somehow along the way

On a Sunday morning sidewalk
I’m 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
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down

In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl that he was swinging
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singing
Then I headed down the street
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyons
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday

On a Sunday morning sidewalk
I’m 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
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming

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