Sunday is gloomy
But monday is something much worse
Monday I wake up and dreams turn to ashes
The spell you put on me
My dear is a curse

All the rosy pictures I drew in my head
Are bleeding out my eyes
And turning my world red

There is no yellow brick road
To bring me back home
I’m out in the fog and the mist all alone

Sunday is magic
Compared to the tragic
Transformation from night
Into day

The dark is a safety on which I rely
When the daylight reveals all the details in sharpness
That contrasts the dullness I feel when the lights are away
And I’m not awake

There’s nothing but a maze in the traffic
As I look out my window to peels from their horns
It’s a cacophonic orchestra funeral march
And it’s bidding me throw myself down