Sundays are my suicide days,
I don't know why they always seem so dismal,
Thunderstorms, clouds, snow, and a slight drizzle,
Whether it's the weather or the letters by my bed,
Sometimes death is better than the migraine in my head
I don't know why they always seem so dismal,
Thunderstorms, clouds, snow, and a slight drizzle,
Whether it's the weather or the letters by my bed,
Sometimes death is better than the migraine in my head