About the song
Kris Kristofferson’s “Sunday Morning Coming Down”: A Classic Country Ballad
Kris Kristofferson, a name synonymous with country music, has given us countless timeless tunes. Among his most celebrated works is “Sunday Morning Coming Down”. Released in 1969, this song has become a staple in the country music canon and continues to resonate with listeners across generations.
“Sunday Morning Coming Down” paints a vivid picture of a hangover, both physically and emotionally. Kristofferson’s lyrics delve deep into the feelings of regret, loneliness, and the longing for a simpler time. The song captures the universal experience of waking up after a night of excess, realizing the mistakes made, and grappling with the consequences.
Musically, the song is a masterpiece of simplicity. The melancholic melody, combined with Kristofferson’s raw and soulful vocals, creates a haunting atmosphere that perfectly complements the lyrics. The instrumentation, featuring a gentle acoustic guitar and subtle pedal steel guitar, adds to the song’s understated beauty.
“Sunday Morning Coming Down” has been covered by numerous artists, each bringing their unique interpretation to the song. However, it is Kristofferson’s original version that is considered the definitive recording. The song’s enduring popularity can be attributed to its relatability and its ability to capture the human condition in a poignant and honest way.
Whether you’re a long-time country music fan or simply appreciate a well-written song, “Sunday Morning Coming Down” is a must-listen. It’s a timeless classic that continues to touch the hearts of listeners and remind us of the complexities of the human experience.
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Lyrics
… 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 songs I’d been pickin’
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 fryin’ chicken
And Lord it took me back to something that I 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 nothin’ short of dyin’
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalks
And Sunday morning coming down
… In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughin’ 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 a 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 nothin’ short of dyin’
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleepin’ city sidewalks
And Sunday morning coming down