SupportSupport
Kris Kristofferson - Broadcasts Vol. 14 - Sunday Morning Coming Down
Broadcasts Vol. 14
Disc 1
01. Virginia
02. Soul Meets Body
03. Ice Cream Man
04. Jealous of the Moon
05. Icicles
06. Letters
07. Don't Want Forever
08. All My Tears
09. Unknown Legend
10. Dancin Circles Round the Sun
11. Go Tell It on the Mountain
12. Safe in Your Arms
13. I Summon You
14. Break It Down Baby
15. The One I Love
16. Sunday Morning Coming Down
17. Closer to You
18. Drunk on Love
19. Kind Woman
Disc 2
01. What Does It Mean Now?
02. The Pugilist at 59
03. Greetings to the New Brunette
04. Black Horse and the Cherry Tree
05. Tired of My Tears
06. Childish Things
07. I Should Get Up
08. Radio Operator
09. Beautiful Wreck
10. You Were There for Me
11. Arizona
12. People Gonna Talk
13. Song for You
14. These Four Walls
15. Be Here Now
16. Flowered Dresses
17. Brotherhood
18. Borderline
19. Seven Angels on a Bicycle
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 through my closet for my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
And I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day

I'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 kicking

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 way

On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
Makes a body feel alone

There ain't nothin' short of dyin'
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city sidewalks
Sunday mornin' comin' down

In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughin' little girl who he was swingin'
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
Listened to the song they were singin'

Then I headed back for home
And somewhere far away a lonesome bell was ringin'
And it echoed through the canyons
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday

On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
Makes a body feel alone

There ain't nothin' short of dyin'
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city sidewalks
Sunday mornin' comin' down

On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
Makes your body feel alone

There ain't nothin' short of dyin'
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city sidewalks
Sunday mornin' comin' down