There’s something beautifully melancholic about a Sunday morning that’s felt rather than seen—a sense of introspection enveloped in the quiet aftermath of the night before. “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down,” written by Kris Kristofferson and famously performed by Johnny Cash, captures this sentiment with a poignant clarity that resonates through the years.
When you listen to this song, it’s like waking up with the remnants of Saturday night still lingering, the sunlight creeping through the blinds just a bit too bright, and the world outside whispering to slow down. The lyrics paint a vivid picture of a lone figure wandering through a sleepy city, feeling the weight of loneliness yet finding a bittersweet comfort in the familiar scenes of a Sunday morning—from the smell of a Sunday meal wafting through the air to kids playing and bells ringing far away.
What makes this song a timeless piece isn’t just its lyrical depth but how it taps into the universal feeling of reflection and subtle sorrow that often accompanies the end of the weekend. Johnny Cash’s deep, resonant voice adds layers of gravitas to the song, making each word not just heard but felt. It’s a song that doesn’t shy away from the rough edges of life’s tapestry; instead, it embraces them, making the listener feel a little less alone in their contemplative moments.
Kris Kristofferson’s masterful storytelling through music invites us to explore those quiet, introspective moments of our lives, making “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” not just a song but an experience—a reminder of the simple, often overlooked moments that stitch the fabric of human experience
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Lyrics
[Verse 1]
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 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 day
[Verse 2]
I’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 way
[Chorus]
On the Sunday morning sidewalks
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’
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin’ city sidewalks
Sunday mornin’ comin’ down
[Verse 3]
In 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 yesterday
[Chorus]
On the Sunday morning sidewalks
Wishing, 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 sidewalk
Sunday mornin’ comin’ down
[Outro]
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do