Sunday Morning Coming Down is one of the most popular songs of the time. Sunday Morning Coming Down lyrics written by Kris Kristofferson. This song has sung by Johnny Cash.
| Singer | Johnny Cash |
| Released | 1972 |
| Album | American Outlaws (Live) |
| Tuning | Intermediate |
Sunday Morning Coming Down Lyrics
On a Sunday morning side,walk I’m 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 lonesome as the sound
On a sleepy city side,walk Sunday morning coming down
…………………………*……………………….
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 through my closet for my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt
And I shaved my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stair to meet the day
I’d smoke my brain the night before with cigarettes and songs I’d been a picking
But I lit my first and watched the small kid cussin’ at a can that he was kicking
Then I crossed the empty street and caught
The Sunday smell of someone fryin’ chicken
And it took me back to something that I’d lost somewhere somehow along the way
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
…………………………*……………………….
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 canyons like the disappearing dreams of yesterday
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
Coming down coming down coming down coming down.
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 des-sert
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 picking
but I lit my first and watched a small kid playing
with the can that he was kicking
then I walked across the street
and caught the Sunday smell of someone’s frying chicken
and lord it took me back to some-thin 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 the body feel alone
and there’s nothing short of dying
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 laughing little girl that he was swinging
and I stopped beside a Sunday school
and listened to the songs that they were singing
then I headed down the street
and somewhere far away a lonely bell was ring – ing
and it echoed through the canyons
Am
like our disappearing dreams of yester – day
on a Sunday morning sidewalk
I’m wishing lord, that I was stoned
cause there’s something in a Sunday
that makes the body feel alone
and there’s nothing short of dying
that’s half as lonesome as the sound
of the sleeping city sidewalks
and Sunday morning coming down
