I’ve been afraid of a song.  It’s one that vibrates inside me as the lyrics unfold.  But I’ve struggled to memorize those words.

I planned to sing it a couple of months ago but I didn’t have the energy to study.  Was that Covid time or earlier?  I can’t remember.

My energy is back and I’ve decided to sing at the café of the Minard concert hall on Monday, December 9.  I was aiming to sing Annie’s Song, John Denver’s ode to love.  I started practicing and it was easy.  I used to sing it in Canada … forty years ago.  Back then I added a verse, adapting the Irish Blessing to John’s song.  I planned to do the same in December.  I wasn’t afraid.

On Sunday I was thumbing through my files of song lyrics and there sat my scary song: Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down.  I read through the words.  I listened to Kris Kristofferson sing it on YouTube Music.

And I knew

December 9: Kris and me.  A simple nod of the head.  Loving something I fear.  And so I continue to memorize.

A drug addict is speaking.  I know nothing about what that’s like.  But I will give that world to the audience in a couple of weeks.

Here are the words:

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 shaved 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 kickin’
Then I crossed the empty street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin’ chicken
And it took me back to something
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
That makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin’ city sidewalk
Sunday mornin’ comin’ down

In the park, I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl he was swingin’
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the song that they were singin’
Then I headed back for home
And somewhere far away a lonely 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
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin’ city sidewalk
Sunday mornin’ comin’ down

If you’re local, perhaps you’d like to hear me sing.  Minard’s café is at Romain Deconinckplein 2 in Gent. 

The concert on Monday, December 9 starts at 8:00 pm with scheduled acts.  The open mic session will start around 9:00.

Here I come