Sunday Morning Coming Down / The Pilgrim Akkorde von 
Kris KristoffersonLou Reed 
N/A6 Aufrufe
Tonart: Bb major•
Verse 1
Bb
So what am I leading up to?
Well, how about some of
that early stuff?
How about Sunday morning,
coming down, stuff like that?
Could you do something from that era?
Well, I woke up Sunday morning
F
Bb
Hold my head that didn't hurt
Gm
The beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad
F
So I had one more for dessert
Bb
Then I fumbled through my closet
Bb
Gm
and found my cleanest dirty shirt
Eb
I washed my face and combed my hair
Cm
and stumbled down the stairs
Bb
I'd smoke my brain the night before
Eb
on cigarettes and songs
Bb
that I'd been picking
But I lit my first
Gm
and watched the small kid crossin'
F
at a can that he was kickin'
Bb
Then I crossed the empty street
Eb
and caught the Sunday smell
Bb
Gm
of someone frying chicken
Eb
And it took me back to something
Cm
Eb
F
that I lost somehow somewhere
Bb
Eb
along the way
Bb
Eb
On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Bb
wishin' Lord that I was stoned.
Dm
Cause there's nothin' in a Sunday,
F
there's somethin' in a Sunday,
Bb
makes a body feel alone.
Eb
there ain't nothing short of dying
Bb
half as lonesome as the sound
F
on the sleeping city sidewalks
Eb
Dm
Sunday morning
F
Bb
coming down so naturally
F
Bb
I took myself down to the Tally Ho Tavern
Eb
F
Bb
to buy me a bottle of beer.
Eb
F
Bb
I sat me down by a tender
young maiden
Gm
Ab
F
whose eyes were as soft as her hair.
Bb
As I was searching from bottle to bottle
F
Bb
for something unfoolish to say,
Eb
that sil ver -tongued devil
F
Bb
Gm
just slipped from the shadows,
F
Bb
smilingly stole her away.
F
I said, hey, little girl,
Eb
Bb
F
Bb
don't you know he's the devil?
He's everything that I ain't.
F
Eb
Bb
Gm
Hiding intentions of evil inten tions
Cm
C
F
under the smile of a saint.
Eb
Bb
All he's good for is getting in trouble
Eb
F
And shifting his share of the blame
Bb
Eb
Bb
Some people swear he's my double
Gm
C
F
Some even say we're the same
Eb
But the silver -tongued devil's
Eb
Bb
I'll only live till I die
F
Eb
We take our own chances
Bb
Gm
and pay our own due.
F
Chances are different these days.
The dues are different,
F
Bb
F
F
too. I was thinking of that when I saw Bobby Newarth,
the original Silver Tongue Devil,
Gm
What a long way we have come.
F
And it's a sadder world.
C
F
Because the very thing that's propelling
C
F
most of us around the planet
are things we can't even fool
with anymore.
C
Without wearing a wetsuit.
F
Thus, the silver tongue
There's one for Bobby, for all of us.
F
See him wasted on the sidewalk
Bb
in his jacket and his jeans
Eb
Wearing yesterday's misfortunes
Eb
Once he had a future
C
Which he spent like they was going
Bb
And he keeps right on a -changin'
for the better or the worse
Eb
F
Searching for a shrine
Eb
Never knowing if believing
Bb
is a blessing or a curse
Eb
F
Bb
Or if going up was worth coming down
Eb
He's a poet, he's a picker
Bb
He's a prophet, he's a pusher
F
He's a pilgrim man to preach
And a problem when he's stoned
Bb
Eb
He's a walking contradiction
Bb
Partly truth, mostly fiction
F
Takin' every wrong direction
On his lonely way back home
There you go.
Thank you. Thanks. Thank you.
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