About the song
Kris Kristofferson’s “Sunday Morning Coming Down”: A Timeless Ballad of Loneliness
Have you ever woken up on a Sunday morning feeling lost and alone? Kris Kristofferson’s haunting ballad, “Sunday Morning Coming Down,” perfectly captures that feeling of isolation and melancholy. This iconic country song, which has been covered by countless artists over the years, is a testament to Kristofferson’s ability to craft lyrics that resonate deeply with listeners.
Released in 1970, “Sunday Morning Coming Down” quickly became a country music staple. The song’s narrator paints a vivid picture of a solitary figure struggling to cope with the aftermath of a night of drinking. As the narrator stumbles through his morning routine, he reflects on his loneliness and the emptiness he feels. The song’s raw and honest portrayal of the human condition has made it a timeless classic.
One of the most striking aspects of “Sunday Morning Coming Down” is its simplicity. Kristofferson’s lyrics are straightforward and easy to understand, yet they evoke a powerful emotional response. The song’s melody is equally understated, allowing the lyrics to take center stage. This stripped-down approach creates a sense of intimacy, making the listener feel as if they are sharing a personal moment with the narrator.
The live performance of “Sunday Morning Coming Down” at the Johnny Cash Memorial is particularly noteworthy. Kristofferson’s soulful vocals, combined with the heartfelt backing of the band, elevate the song to new heights. The performance captures the raw emotion of the original recording while adding a layer of intensity that is only possible in a live setting.
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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