Sinead O'connor

Sunday is gloomy,
My hours are slumberless,
Dearest the shadows
I live with are numberless
Little white flowers will
never awaken you
Not where the black coach
of sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought of
ever returning you
Would they be angry
if I thought of joining you
Gloomy Sunday.
Sunday is gloomy
with shadows I spend it all
My heart and I have
decided to end it all
Soon there'll be flowers
and prayers that are sad,
I know, let them not weep,
let then know
that I'm glad to go
Death is no dream,
for in death I'm caressing you
With the last breath of my
soul I'll be blessing you
Gloomy Sunday
Dreaming
I was only dreaming