Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down Mark Chesnutt
"Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down" by Mark Chesnutt, released in 1996, is a #Country song reflecting themes of loneliness, regret, and introspection. The lyrics depict a man grappling with the aftermath of a wild night, feeling lost on a quiet Sunday morning. Its poignant storytelling and relatable emotions resonate with listeners, highlighting the struggle between past choices and present reality. The song features a traditional country sound, emphasizing acoustic elements that enhance its reflective mood.
Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wouldn'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 shaved my face and combed my hair
Stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
Well, I'd smoked my brain the night before
On cigarettes and songs I'd been picking
But I lit my first and watched a small boy
Cussin' at a can that he was kicking
And I crossed the empty street
Caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken
And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd 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 a body feel alone
And there's nothing short of dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleeping city sidewalk
A Sunday mornin' comin' down
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wouldn'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 shaved my face and combed my hair
Stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
Well, I'd smoked my brain the night before
On cigarettes and songs I'd been picking
But I lit my first and watched a small boy
Cussin' at a can that he was kicking
And I crossed the empty street
Caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken
And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd 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 a body feel alone
And there's nothing short of dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleeping city sidewalk
A Sunday mornin' comin' down
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!