Johnny Cash Sunday Morning Coming Down (1988 Version)
Альбомы: Classic Cash: Hall of Fame Series (1988), Easy Rider: The Best of the Mercury Recordings (2020)
Жанры — Кантри
Текст песни
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 the cleanest, dirty shirt
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
Stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
I smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs that I'd been picking
But I lit my first and watched a small boy
Cussing at a can that he'd been kicking
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
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
I'm wishing Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes the body feel alone
Oh, and there ain't nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleeping city sidewalk
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
Listened to the songs that they were singing
I headed down the road
Somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyons
Like a disappearing dream of yesterday
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
Oh, I'm wishing Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something about a Sunday
That'll make your body feel alone
Oh, and there ain't nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleeping city sidewalk
Sunday morning coming down
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 the cleanest, dirty shirt
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
Stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
I smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs that I'd been picking
But I lit my first and watched a small boy
Cussing at a can that he'd been kicking
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
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
I'm wishing Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes the body feel alone
Oh, and there ain't nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleeping city sidewalk
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
Listened to the songs that they were singing
I headed down the road
Somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyons
Like a disappearing dream of yesterday
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
Oh, I'm wishing Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something about a Sunday
That'll make your body feel alone
Oh, and there ain't nothing short of dying
Half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleeping city sidewalk
Sunday morning coming down
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