But she is well on her way to being stoned. (Also, no matter what, my phone insists that these photos are not upside down. So, yeah, there’s carpet on the ceiling.)
“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 a’ dying
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.”