About the song
Kris Kristofferson, a figure synonymous with the outlaw country movement of the 1970s, penned the timeless ballad “Sunday Morning Coming Down” in 1970. This heartfelt song, often considered his signature tune, delves into the melancholic aftermath of a heavy night of drinking. With its raw emotional honesty and poetic lyrics, “Sunday Morning Coming Down” has resonated with audiences for decades, becoming a classic of country blues.
The song’s introspective narrative unfolds as the protagonist awakens to the sobering reality of a new day. The opening lines, “Sunday morning coming down, with a hangover and a heavy heart,” immediately set the tone for a poignant exploration of regret and self-reflection. Kristofferson’s evocative imagery paints a vivid picture of the character’s physical and emotional state, as he grapples with the consequences of his actions.
The song’s melodic structure is simple yet effective, allowing Kristofferson’s vocal delivery to take center stage. His voice, imbued with a sense of weariness and vulnerability, conveys the character’s deep-seated pain. The guitar accompaniment, provided by the legendary Johnny Cash, adds a touch of melancholic beauty to the arrangement.
“Sunday Morning Coming Down” is more than just a song about a hangover; it is a profound exploration of human frailty and the search for redemption. Kristofferson’s lyrics are filled with poignant observations about life, love, and the consequences of our choices. The song’s enduring popularity is a testament to its timeless themes and its ability to connect with listeners on a deeply personal level.
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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