About the song
Let’s step into the reflective world of “Sunday Morning Coming Down” by the illustrious Kris Kristofferson. Penned by Kristofferson himself, this timeless ballad was released in 1970 as part of his debut album, “Kristofferson.”
As the sun rises on a quiet Sunday morning, Kristofferson’s evocative lyrics paint a vivid picture of a solitary figure navigating the aftermath of a long night of revelry. The song captures the bittersweet nostalgia of a hangover, with poignant reflections on lost love, loneliness, and the passage of time.
“Sunday Morning Coming Down” resonated deeply with audiences, earning critical acclaim and commercial success. It reached the number one spot on the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart and earned Kristofferson a Grammy Award for Best Country Song in 1971. Its raw honesty and emotional depth struck a chord with listeners, making it a beloved classic in the country music canon.
Decades later, “Sunday Morning Coming Down” remains a poignant reminder of the universal experiences of regret and introspection. Its enduring popularity is a testament to Kris Kristofferson’s songwriting prowess and his ability to capture the essence of the human condition in his music.
So, as we listen to the haunting melody of “Sunday Morning Coming Down,” let’s embrace the melancholy beauty of Kris Kristofferson’s poetic storytelling and reflect on the joys and sorrows of life’s journey.
Video
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