About the song
Kris Kristofferson’s “Sunday Morning Coming Down” is a poignant reflection on loneliness, regret, and the solace found in simple pleasures. Released in 1969 as part of his debut album “Kristofferson,” this song quickly became a classic in the country music genre.
Written by Kris Kristofferson himself, “Sunday Morning Coming Down” tells the story of a man waking up alone on a Sunday morning, grappling with the aftermath of a wild night out. As he navigates the quiet streets and observes everyday scenes, he reflects on his own life choices and the emptiness he feels inside.
The song’s introspective lyrics and evocative imagery struck a chord with audiences, earning widespread critical acclaim and commercial success. “Sunday Morning Coming Down” topped the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart and won the Country Music Association Award for Song of the Year in 1970.
Kris Kristofferson’s raw and emotive delivery further elevated the song’s impact, cementing its place as a classic of the country music genre. Its themes of alienation and longing have resonated with listeners for decades, making it a timeless favorite among fans of Kristofferson’s music and country music enthusiasts alike.
With its melancholic melody and honest portrayal of human experience, “Sunday Morning Coming Down” continues to be celebrated as one of Kris Kristofferson’s most iconic songs, showcasing his talent as both a songwriter and performer.
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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 through my closet, for my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt
And I shaved my face and combed my hair and, stumbled down the stairs to meet the dayI’d smoked my brain the night before on, cigarettes and songs that I’d been pickin’
But I lit my first and watched a small kid cussin’ at a can, that he was kickin’
Then I crossed the empty street and caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin’ chicken
And it took me back to somethin’, that I’d lost somehow somewhere along the wayOn the Sunday morning sidewalks, wishin’ Lord, that I was stoned
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday, makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’, half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin’ city side walks, Sunday mornin’ comin’ downIn the park I saw a daddy, with a laughing little girl who he was swingin’
And I stopped beside a Sunday school and listened to the song that they were singin’
Then I headed back for home and somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin’
And it echoed through the canyons like the disappearing dreams of yesterdayOn the Sunday morning sidewalks, wishin’ Lord, that I was stoned
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday, makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’, half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin’ city side walks, Sunday mornin’ comin’ down