Sunday Morning Coming Down (chromatic)

SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN
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, 
   7      7*   -7*   -7*  7* 7  7  -6
'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,