Sunday Morning Coming Down - текст песни
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 dessert Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes I found my cleanest dirty shirt Then I washed my face and combed my hair, stumbled down the stairs to greet the day
Well I smoked my mind the night before on cigarettes and songs that I'd been picking Then I lit my first and watched a small boy cussin' at a can that he was kicking Then I crossed the empty street, caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken And it took me back to something that I lost somewhere somehow along the way
CHORUS: On a Sunday morning sidewalk (I'm) wishing, Lord, that I was stoned Cause there's somethin' 'bout a Sunday That makes a body feel alone And there ain't nothin' short of dying Half as lonesome as the sound Of a sleeping city sidewalk And 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, listened to the songs that they was singing And then, far away, I heard a lonely bell a-ringin'
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