Sunday Morning Coming Down

(Kris Kristofferson)



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 desert.



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.



Well, I'd smoke my brain the night before

With cigarettes and songs I'd been picking

But I lit my first and watched the small kid

Cursin' at a can that he was kicking.



Then I crossed the empty street

And caught the Sunday smell of someone frying 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

Makes a body feel alone.



And there's nothing sure of dying

Half as lonesome as a sound

On the sleeping city sidewalk

Sunday morning coming down.



In the park I saw a daddy

With the laughing little girl that he was swinging

And I stopped beside a 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 through the canyons

Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.



On the Sunday morning sidewalk

Wishing Lord, that I was stoned

'Cause there's something in a Sunday

Makes a body feel alone...