Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down
Well, I woke up Sunday mornin',
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 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 smoked my mind the night before,
With cigarettes and songs I'd been pickin',
But I lit my first and watched a small kid,
Playin' with a can that he was kickin',
Then I walked across the street and caught,
The Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken,
Lord it took me back to something that,
I lost somewhere, somehow along the way,
On a Sunday mornin' sidewalk,
I'm wishin' 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 is half as lonesome as the sound,
Of the sleepin' city sidewalk,
And Sunday mornin' comin' down,
In the park I saw a daddy with a,
Laughin' little girl that he was swingin',
And I stopped beside a Sunday school,
And listened to the songs that they were singin',
Then I headed down the street and somewhere,
Far away a lonely bell was ringin',
And it echoed through the canyon,
Like disappearing dreams of yesterday,
On a Sunday mornin' sidewalk,
I'm wishin' 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 is half as lonesome as the sound,
Of the sleepin' city sidewalk,
And Sunday mornin' comin' down.
Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down
Recorded By: Johnny Cash
Written By: Kris Kristoferson