About the Song
Kris Kristofferson’s “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” is a poignant reflection on loneliness and regret, written during his early days in Nashville when he lived in a dilapidated apartment and worked as a janitor at Columbia Records. Despite holding a master’s degree from Oxford University and achieving the rank of captain in the US Army, Kristofferson pursued his dream of becoming a songwriter, even turning down a professor position at West Point.
Kristofferson’s determination to get noticed was as legendary as his songwriting. While working as a commercial helicopter pilot, he famously landed his helicopter in Johnny Cash’s yard to deliver a demo tape of this song. Though they had known each other since 1965, the bold move left an impression. Cash later recounted the event with embellishments, claiming Kristofferson had a tape in one hand and a beer in the other—a tale Kristofferson never corrected out of respect for Cash’s role in launching his career.
The song paints a vivid picture of a hungover Sunday morning as the protagonist reflects on the emptiness of life after the revelry. With lines like “I put on my cleanest dirty shirt” and “smoked my brain the night before,” Kristofferson captures the stark, unvarnished reality of a lonely day in a world that seems to move on without him.
“Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” resonated deeply with audiences, reaching #1 on the Country charts in September 1970. It was Kristofferson’s first chart-topping hit as a songwriter, cementing his place in the pantheon of country music legends.
Lyrics
Well I woke up Sunday mornin’, 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 dayAdvertisementI’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 wayOn the Sunday morning sidewalks, wishin’ 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 side walks, Sunday mornin’ comin’ downAdvertisementIn 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 yesterdayOn the Sunday morning sidewalks, wishin’ 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 side walks, Sunday mornin’ comin’ down
