Текст: Sarah Brightman. Gloomy Sunday.

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 said I know
Let them not weep, let them 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
I wake and I find you asleep in the deep of my heart

Darling I hope that my dream never haunted you
My heart is telling you how much I wanted you

Gloomy Sunday
Gloomy Sunday