Song Lyrics From Around The World

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What song will you find on Lyrics Playground today?

SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN (Kris Kristofferson) Kris Kristofferson Also recorded by: Lynn Anderson; Hank Ballard; Bobby Bare; Brassknuckle Boys; David Briggs; Vikki Carr; Johnny Cash; Roy Clark; David Allan Coe; Jim Cook; Countdown; Crooked Fingers; Roy Drusky; Joe Ely; Ralph Emery; George Hamilton IV; Alvin Youngblood Hart; Ferlin Husky; Waylon Jennings; Frankie Laine; Mark Lindsay; Mother Hips; Shawn Mullins; Willie Nelson; Ray Price; Sea Monster; Ernie Smith; Hank Snow; Ray Stevens; Nat Stuckey; R. Dean Taylor; Tex, Don & Charlie. 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 picking. 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 frying chicken. And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd 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 nothing short a' dying That's half as lonesome as the sound Of the sleeping city sidewalk And Sunday morning coming down. In the 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 songs they were singing. Then I headed down the street, And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing, And it echoed through the canyon Like the 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 nothing short a' dying That's half as lonesome as the sound Of the sleeping city sidewalk And Sunday morning coming down.

    





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