Sunday Morning Coming Down
Kris Kristofferson, Johnny Cash
Well, I [C]woke up Sunday morning,
with no [F]way to hold my head, that didn't [C]hurt
and the [C]beer I had for breakfast,
wasn't [Am]bad, so I had one more for des-[G7]-sert
than I [C]thumbed through my closet,
for my [F]clothes, found my cleanest, dirty [C]shirt
than I [G7]washed my face and combed my hair,
stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.
Well I smoked my brain the night before,
with cigarettes and songs that we been picking
And I lit my first and stopped to watch,
a small kid with a can that he was kicking
Than I crossed an empty street,
and caught the Sunday-smell of someones frying chicken
and it took me back to something,
that I lost somewhere somehow along the way
[Chorus]
On a Sunday morning [F]sidewalk,
wishing Lord that I was [C]stoned
Cause there is something in a [G7]Sunday,
that makes somebody feel a-[C]-lone
And it's nothing sure but [F]dying,
half as lone some as the [C]sound
of a sleeping city [G7]sidewalk,
when Sunday morning coming [C]down
In a park I saw a Daddy,
with a laughing little girl he was swinging
And I stopped beside a Sunday school,
and listened to the songs that they were singing
Than I headed back for home,
and some where far away a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed to the canyons,
like the disappearing dreams of yesterday
[Chorus]