♫ Sunday is gloomy... ♫
[ she knows the PCD is on, having done that herself and setting it aside to record.
the song is cliché and very rachel berry, in her opinion, which is why she selected it; something from memory that fits with what she's feeling. rachel was always in favor of singing about it and this is quinn's way of coping. perhaps even paying tribute, though she'd never admit it. in a soft, classic alto, quinn continues singing. ]
♫ My hours are slumberless. Dearest, the shadows I live with are numbless.
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. Soon there'll be flowers and prayers that are sad. I know, let them not weep, let them know I am glad to go. Death is no dream-- ♫
[ there she stops, tears springing to her eyes again. ] I can't. [ shaking her head at herself, quinn reaches for the PCD and turns it off. ]