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SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN (KRIS KRISTOFFERSON) 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 DESERT THEN I FUMBLED THRU 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 I'D SMOKED MY BRAIN THE NIGHT BEFORE WITH CIGARETTES AND SONGS THAT I'D BEEN PICKING BUT I LIT MY FIRST AND WATCHED A SMALL KID CUSSING AT A CAN THAT HE WAS KICKING. THEN I CROSSED THE EMPTY STREET AND CAUGHT THE SUNDAY SMELL OF SOMEONE FRYING CHICKEN AND IT TOOK ME BACK TO SOMETHING THAT I'D LOST SOMEHOW SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY. 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 NOTHING SHORT OF DYING HALF AS LONESOME AS THE SOUND ON THE SLEEPY CITY SIDEWALKS SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN. IN A PARK I SAW A DADDY WITH A LAUGHING LITTLE GIRL THAT HE WAS SWINGING, AND I STOPPED BESIDE A SUNDAY SCHOOL AND LISTENED TO THE SONG THAT THEY WERE SINGING THEN I HEADED BACK FOR HOME AND SOMEWHERE FAR AWAY A LONELY BELL WAS RINGING AND IT ECHOED THRU THE CANYONS LIKE THE DISAPPEARING DREAMS OF YESTERDAY.