title: Sunday Morning Coming Down
key: Country
harp type: Chromatic
genre: Eb
skill: Any

By: Kris Kristofferson
Key: Eb
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Well I woke up Sun-day morn-ing,
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With no way to hold my head
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that did-n’t hurt.
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And the beer I had for break-fast
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Was-n’t bad,
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So I had one more for des-sert.
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Then I fum-bled through my
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clos-et for my clothes,
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And found my clean-est dir-ty shirt.
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An’ I shaved my face and combed my hair,
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An’ stum-bled down the stairs
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to meet the day.
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I’d smoked my brain the night be-fore,
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With cig-a-rettes
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and songs that I’d been pick-in’
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But I lit my first and watched a small kid,
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Cuss-in’ at a can that he was kick-ing.
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Then I crossed the emp-ty street
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‘n caught the Sun-day smell
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of some-one fry-in’ chick-en.
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And it took me back to some-thin’
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That I’d lost some-how,
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some-where a-long the way.
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On the Sun-day morn-ing side-walks,
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Wish-in’ Lord, that I was stoned,
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‘Cause there’s some-thing in a Sun-day,
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Makes a bod-y, feel a-lone,
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And there’s noth-in’ short of dy-in’
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Half as lone-some, as the sound,
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On the sleep-in’ cit-y side walks,
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Sun-day morn-in’ com-in’ down,
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And there’s noth-in’ short of dy-in’
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Half as lone-some, as the sound,
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On the sleep-in’ cit-y side walks,
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Sun-day morn-in’ com-in’ down,
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Sun-day morn-in’ com-in’ down.
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In the park I saw a dad-dy,
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With a laugh-in’ lit-tle girl
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That he was swing-in’
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And I stopped be-side a Sun-day school
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And lis-tened to the song
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that they were sing-in’
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Then I head-ed back for home,
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And some-where far a-way
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a lone-ly bell was ring-in’
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And it ech-oed thru the can-yons,
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Like the dis-ap-pear-ing dreams
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of yes-ter-day
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On the Sun-day morn-ing side-walks,
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Wish-in’ Lord, that I was stoned,
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‘Cause there’s some-thing in a Sun-day,
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Makes a bod-y, feel a-lone,
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And there’s noth-in’ short of dy-in’
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Half as lone-some, as the sound,
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On the sleep-in’ cit-y side walks,
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Sun-day morn-in’ com-in’ down,