About the song
*”Sunday Morning Coming Down,” a timeless country ballad penned by Kris Kristofferson and brought to life by the soulful voices of Kristofferson and Johnny Cash, is more than just a song; it’s a poignant reflection on the aftermath of a night of revelry and the inevitable reckoning that follows. Released in 1978, this duet stands as a testament to the enduring power of country music to capture the complexities of the human experience.
Kristofferson’s lyrics paint a vivid picture of a solitary figure waking up to the harsh reality of a hangover and the emptiness that often accompanies a night of excess. The imagery is both evocative and relatable, as he describes the “empty bottle lying on the floor” and the “morning paper, stained and torn.” Through these simple yet powerful words, Kristofferson taps into a universal theme: the fleeting nature of pleasure and the enduring nature of regret.
Johnny Cash’s deep, resonant voice adds an extra layer of gravitas to the song. His delivery is both mournful and world-weary, perfectly capturing the sense of desolation that permeates the lyrics. The harmony between Kristofferson’s heartfelt vocals and Cash’s authoritative tone creates a haunting and unforgettable sound.
“Sunday Morning Coming Down” is more than just a country song; it’s a meditation on the human condition. The song’s themes of loneliness, regret, and the search for meaning have resonated with listeners for generations. Whether you’ve experienced the pain of a hangover or simply the weight of life’s disappointments, there’s something in this song that will touch your heart.
The song’s enduring popularity can be attributed to its timeless message and the raw emotion conveyed by its performers. Kristofferson and Cash’s collaboration on “Sunday Morning Coming Down” is a classic example of two musical giants coming together to create something truly special.
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Lyrics
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 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
Playin’ with a can that he was kickin’
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone’s fryin’ chicken
And Lord, it took me back to somethin’ that I’d lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way
On a Sunday mornin’ sidewalk
I’m wishin’, Lord, that I was stoned
‘Cause there’s somethin’ in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothin’ short a’ dyin’
That’s 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 they were singin’
Then I headed down the street
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin’
And it echoed through the canyons
Like the disappearin’ dreams of yesterday
On a Sunday mornin’ sidewalk
I’m wishin’, Lord, that I was stoned
‘Cause there’s somethin’ in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothin’ short a’ dyin’
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleepin’ city sidewalk
And Sunday mornin’ comin’ down