Lyric Sunday Morning Coming Down
(Kris Kristofferson)
In the park I see a daddy with the laughin little girl that he s a swinging
And I stop beside a Sunday school and listen to the song they re singing
I m headin back for home and somewhere far away a lonely bell is ringing
And it echoes through the city like my disappearing dreams of yesterday.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk wishing Lord that I was home
Cause there s something bout a Sunday makes a body feel alone
And there s nothing sure to dying half as lonesome as the sound
On a sleeping city sidewalk Sunday morning coming down.
I smoked so much the night before my mouth feels like an ashtray I ve been licking
Now I light my first and watch a small kid cussin at the can he s been a kicking
I cross the empty street and catch the Sunday smell of someone fryin chicken
And it takes me back to something that I d lost somehow somewhere along the way.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk wishing Lord that I was home
Cause there s something bout a Sunday makes a body feel alone
And there s nothing sure to dying half as lonesome as the sound
On a sleeping city sidewalk Sunday morning coming down.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk wishing Lord that I was home
Cause there s something bout a Sunday makes a body feel alone
And there s nothing sure to dying half as lonesome as the sound
On a sleeping city sidewalk Sunday morning coming down...
In the park I see a daddy with the laughin little girl that he s a swinging
And I stop beside a Sunday school and listen to the song they re singing
I m headin back for home and somewhere far away a lonely bell is ringing
And it echoes through the city like my disappearing dreams of yesterday.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk wishing Lord that I was home
Cause there s something bout a Sunday makes a body feel alone
And there s nothing sure to dying half as lonesome as the sound
On a sleeping city sidewalk Sunday morning coming down.
I smoked so much the night before my mouth feels like an ashtray I ve been licking
Now I light my first and watch a small kid cussin at the can he s been a kicking
I cross the empty street and catch the Sunday smell of someone fryin chicken
And it takes me back to something that I d lost somehow somewhere along the way.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk wishing Lord that I was home
Cause there s something bout a Sunday makes a body feel alone
And there s nothing sure to dying half as lonesome as the sound
On a sleeping city sidewalk Sunday morning coming down.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk wishing Lord that I was home
Cause there s something bout a Sunday makes a body feel alone
And there s nothing sure to dying half as lonesome as the sound
On a sleeping city sidewalk Sunday morning coming down...
