Among the many legendary artists Kris Kristofferson wrote songs for — Johnny Cash, Janis Joplin, Ray Price, Roy Orbison — there was only one song he ever wrote specifically for Jerry Lee Lewis, the untamable force known as The Killer.
That fact alone says everything.
Kristofferson and Jerry Lee Lewis were unlikely brothers in spirit. One was a Rhodes Scholar with a poet’s pen; the other a firebrand piano-pounder raised on Pentecostal hellfire and raw instinct. Yet they shared something deeper than style: honesty, defiance, and a refusal to sanitize who they were for anyone.
They met in Nashville in the 1960s, when Kristofferson was still struggling, working odd jobs and sleeping on couches, while Lewis was already infamous — brilliant, scandal-scarred, and dangerous to underestimate. Despite their differences, the two men recognized authenticity in each other immediately.
Their friendship lasted decades.
Unlike most artists Kristofferson wrote for, Jerry Lee didn’t need a song crafted to fit radio or polish an image. He needed truth — blunt, unvarnished, and unapologetic. And Kristofferson knew that writing for Lewis meant writing without mercy.
That song was “Once More with Feeling.”
Written in the early 1970s, the song was a stark meditation on regret, survival, and emotional exhaustion — themes Jerry Lee Lewis lived rather than imagined. There was no metaphor-heavy poetry here, no narrative distance. The lyrics spoke directly to a man who had burned bridges, buried friends, outlived scandals, and kept playing anyway.
Kristofferson never recorded the song himself.
That decision was deliberate.
He believed the song only made sense in Jerry Lee’s voice — a voice shaped by guilt, faith, rage, and resilience. Sung by anyone else, it would have felt like imitation. Sung by Lewis, it felt like confession.
When Jerry Lee recorded the song, he didn’t soften it. He leaned into its bruises. His delivery carried decades of lived damage — failed marriages, public disgrace, personal loss — all wrapped in that unmistakable snarl. It became one of those rare moments where songwriter and singer disappear, leaving only truth behind.
Kristofferson later acknowledged that writing for Jerry Lee was different from writing for anyone else. There was no room for romanticism. Jerry Lee would smell it immediately. The song had to be earned.
Their bond endured long after charts and trends moved on. Kristofferson remained fiercely loyal to Lewis, even when public opinion turned harsh. He admired Jerry Lee not because he was easy to defend — but because he was impossible to fake.
In the end, that single song stands as a quiet testament to their friendship.
Not a hit single.
Not a commercial play.
Just one honest song, written by one outlaw,
for another who never pretended to be anything else.
And sometimes, that’s the highest form of respect a songwriter can give.