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Sunday's gloomy
Your hours are slumberless
Dear mess, the poseurs
You've lived with are numberless
Brand new white sneakers
Will never awaken you
Not once the Swamp Hag Zurylada
Has taken you

Angels have no thought
Of ever protecting you
They won't be angry
When I am done with killing you

GLOOMY SUNDAY

Gloomy is Sunday
With poseurs you've spent it all
My knife and I
Have decided to end it all
Soon there will be candles
And praters that are said, I know
Let them weep, let them know
That you had to go

Death is no dream
To your doom I am sending you
To the last inch of your soul
I am cursing you

GLOOMY SUNDAY

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