As I gaze from my tower, I can see him
Lurking, watching
Flickering in the gloom-light of funeral pyres

Immortal spectre, waiting in the shadows
For his time to emerge and close my eyes forever
Who is this figure, shrouded in the veil of death?
Why does he seek me
To inflict his curse upon my head?

From beyond the realm of man
He speaks with words like thunder
Casting condemnation upon my wounded soul
No more to breathe the air, to feel the warmth of summer
As I start to slip away
I know my time has come

The old man approached the river
His gray head hanging low
His frail bones, tired and weakened
Stepped beyond the shore into the cold

And he knew there is no hope for redemption
No mercy would fall upon his wretched head
A wicked soul, who did no long to see the sunrise
With sullen heart, he cursed the churning waves around him

Swept into the dark, too late to return, he breathed in
From the emptiness, fear rose up in his throat
And then he knew

No more time, no more breath
No more hope, no more dawn
Only void

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 never returning you
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?

Gloomy Sunday

Gloomy is Sunday, darkness 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
Don't let them weep let them know that I'm glad to go
Death is no dream for in death I'm caressing you
With the last beat of my heart I'll be blessing you

Gloomy Sunday