Percewood's Onagram - Grey Sunday | Текст песни

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Grey Sunday

Been waiting for sunday all over the week
Been working so hard I can't even creep
Been waiting for sundays all through my life
To say true: it's sunday, but the sundays were grey

There ain't any light shining to save
People go out to visit a grave
Of someone who has passed away
To say it's sunday, but this sunday is grey

God bless the dead, they can't even see
What's going on in heaven, what's going on in hell
And the things that we don't see
But we all know so well

Well, dead men can't hear
But you could listen
Sunday's so near
You don't have to fear

My dear friend next sunday is coming so soon
Might be we'll meet us in a very cool room
Where people are lying with dead closed eyes
And a smell that's perfume for all kinds of flies

There's hate between all those who live
But friendship between all deadmen on earth
So don't hesitate and let us give birth
To a child called Hades, but not on a sunday
The child could be mad 'cause the sunday is grey

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