About the song
Kris Kristofferson’s “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” is a haunting ballad that delves into the depths of despair and disillusionment. Released in 1969, the song’s raw emotional intensity and introspective lyrics resonated with audiences and critics alike, cementing Kristofferson’s status as a songwriting luminary.
Originally recorded by Ray Stevens, the song gained widespread recognition when Johnny Cash delivered a powerful rendition that topped the Billboard US Country chart. Cash’s gravelly voice and emotive performance added a layer of authenticity to the song, emphasizing its themes of loneliness, regret, and the search for meaning in life.
The lyrics of “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” paint a vivid picture of a man grappling with his demons. The protagonist awakens to a world devoid of joy, haunted by memories of past mistakes and the weight of unfulfilled dreams. Kristofferson’s poetic language and vivid imagery capture the pervasive sense of emptiness that characterizes the song’s narrative.
Beyond its emotional impact, “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” is a testament to Kristofferson’s songwriting prowess. His ability to craft evocative melodies and poignant lyrics has earned him a place among the greatest songwriters of his generation. The song’s enduring popularity and critical acclaim are a testament to its timeless appeal and its ability to connect with listeners on a profound 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