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