February 3, 2008 at 9:19 am (Scrapbooking, song lyrics)

 Sunday Morning Coming Down, I love that song so I thought I’d start with it. The lyrics are below 

I have a bit of a dilemma, I am not too sure what I want to do with my blog, I do not want a solely scrap booking blog as at times I’d like to talk and vent about current matters and life in general. I tend to get bored very quickly so just doing a blog about one thing won’t work for me.

I also want to take this oppertunity to thank all the wonderful creators out there for your inspiration and ideas.

Anyway here is my first freebie, it’s a rustic handmade cardboard tag in easy to use PNG format, all I ask is, please do not offer it for sale anywhere, I hope you like it;-)) I will post the link asap.

Freebie

Size 1589kb

You can download it here

http://rapidshare.com/files/99534285/akl_Cardboard_Tag.zip.html

Sunday Morning Coming Down by 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.
An’ I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An’ stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I’d smoked my brain the night before,
On cigarettes and songs 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,
‘n 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.
‘Cos 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 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,
And listened to the song 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.
‘Cos 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 sidewalks:
Sunday mornin’ comin’ down.

Do do do do do do do do,
Do do do do do do do,
Do do do do do do do do,
Do do do do do do do.

To fade

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