Kris Kristofferson’s First Lines: Why No One Opens a Song Like He Does—and No One Will Ever Match It

Musical first impressions lock in within a matter of seconds, which makes the first lines of a song absolutely critical in capturing a listener’s attention. Kris Kristofferson was a masterful songwriter in this regard, setting the scene for an entire four-minute song with just a handful of words. Some of his best lyrics happen in the first verse, transporting a listener to a rainy roadside, into a devilish mood, or pining for a faraway lover.

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While these are hardly the only good opening lines among Kris Kristofferson’s 18 studio albums, these are some of our personal favorites.

“Me and Bobby McGee”

“Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waitin’ for a train, when I was feelin’ near as faded as my jeans.” The opening line to Kris Kristofferson’s (and Fred Foster’s) song, “Me and Bobby McGee”, instantly sends a listener to the same highway shoulder where the narrator introduces themselves. From there, it’s not hard to hop on the same diesel truck Bobby thumbed down and ride “all the way down to New Orleans” with the singer.

“Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down”

Anyone who has experienced a hangover will understand the poignant simplicity of a line like, “Well, I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt.” Even a mundane concept like a headache can hold so much significance in that moment: overindulgence, shame, regret. Kristofferson doubles down on the desolation with the next line.“And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad, so I had one more for dessert.” If you know what Sunday mornin’ comin’ down feels like, then you know.

“The Junkie and the Juicehead, Minus Me”

“The Junkie and the Juicehead, Minus Me” places the listener squarely in the middle of a Broadway thoroughfare in downtown Nashville with just one line. “I was a-stumble bummin’ down the neon Music City sidewalks, with the junkie and the juicehead, who had problems of their own. And indeed, in Music City, broke and unemployed songwriters dot the streets as much as any other kind of wayward soul. Of course, the beauty of this particular song is how the narrator learns to better himself by the end of it.

“Loving Her Was Easier (Than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again)”

“I’ve seen the morning burning golden on the mountain in the skies / Aching with the feeling of the freedom of an eagle when she flies / Turning on the world the way she smiled upon my soul, as I lay dying / Healing as the colors in the sunshine and the shadows of her eyes.” The entire first verse of “Loving Her Was Easier (Than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again)” is devastatingly romantic and linguistically beautiful.

“Jesus Was a Capricorn (Owed to John Prine)”

Kris Kristofferson was as adept at writing witty, comedic opening lines as he was romantic and sentimental ones. His ode to John Prine, “Jesus Was a Capricorn”, is a perfect example of that. “Jesus was a Capricorn, he ate organic foods / He believed in love and peace and never wore no shoes.” With just a few words, Kristofferson draws the listener in with the intriguing idea of a savior figure who looked a lot like the looked-down-upon hippies of the 1970s.

“Sam’s Song (Ask Any Working Girl)”

Finally, in a similar vein to the previous song, Kris Kristofferson’s opening lines to his 1995 track, “Sam’s Song (Ask Any Working Girl)” are definitely jolting enough to perk up your ears. “I have been with the best that bastards could muster, from Danny the Dildo to Sidney the Snake / and I feel like a workin’ girl pausin’ to wonder, just how much screwin’ the spirit can take.” Indeed, Kristofferson’s tribute to director Sam Peckinpah had all the giggly lewdness of a centuries-old bar song.

Photo by Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images

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