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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 THRU 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

I'D SMOKED MY BRAIN THE NIGHT BEFORE
WITH CIGARETTES AND SONGS THAT I'D BEEN PICKING
BUT I LIT MY FIRST AND WATCHED A SMALL KID
CUSSING 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 SIDEWALKS, WISHING LORD THAT I WAS STONED,
CAUSE THERE'S SOMETHING IN A SUNDAY MAKES A BODY FEEL ALONE
AND THERE'S NOTHING SHORT OF DYING HALF AS LONESOME AS THE SOUND
ON THE SLEEPY CITY SIDEWALKS SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN.

IN A PARK I SAW A DADDY
WITH A 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 THRU THE CANYONS
LIKE THE DISAPPEARING DREAMS OF YESTERDAY.