In the world the sun is coming up black cry, cry
Pain filled doves and beat up against my window, my head
Blue and red, alive and dead
Keep the claws coiled and not understand the suffering

Cradled in madness
Flirting with the dead
Hope and sadness
What is real and true

Bury me Sundays are red
They hurt me like the needles of rain
Bury me Sundays are red
They hurt me like the needles of rain

Are you coming, are you coming?
Dawn from there I can dance on the night
Wind with my wings, with my wings
A thorn strokes me, a thorn chokes me nervously

Always a blood bath brooding 'neath my windows
Let me out, my body is rain
Trickle through the cracks mournful terrain
Not too far from the pavement, the cold grey truth

Bury me Sundays are red
They hurt me like the needles of rain on my head
Bury me Sundays are red
They hurt me like the needles of rain

Sundays are red, Sundays are red
Sundays are red, some days are dead
Take me from the mad red
Take me from the mad red
And give me a peaceful blue

I do not like living
When there is no giving
It makes no sense
It makes no sense