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Sunday morning coming down

Updated: Apr 11

The neon tube lights flicker. The radio is set to a country music station.

The washer squeaks, thumps and whines rhymthically through its programmed cycles, out of sync with the banjo from the radio.


Spring cleaning my Indian recycled fabric carpets early on a Sunday morning.

I own the laundromat.

Obviously no one else in Coyote Town rises early. At least not to do laundry.

Country muzak, not beer for breakfast.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Kris Kristofferson


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


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