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 in my closet to my clothes

And found my cleanest dirty skirt

And I washed my face and combed my hair

Stumbled down the stair to greet the day.



I'd smoke my mind the night before

With cigarettes and songs I've been a 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

Somewhere, somehow 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 to dying

Half as lonely as the sound

Of 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 songs they were singing.



Then I headed back for home

And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing

And it echoed through the canyon

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...