His eyes open reluctantly to take in the view.  He scans the silent treetops for a hint of hopeful blue.  An eerie whistle in the distance emits it's baleful sound.  The icy reminder of winter lies perpetually on the ground. The rattle of a sigh comes from deep within his soul.  He battles the instinctual urge to climb back into his hole.  

It's just another grey Sunday.  Oh just another grey Sunday.  
No shades of color for this day.
Hopeless grey is the mainstay.  

The battle against tomorrow already starting in his head. His cells start shaking as the poison begins to spread.  Vague thoughts of conversations with people he'll never see. The four walls of torture keep him from being free.  The clock ticking on the wall reminds him the end is near.  The irrational racing of his mind only feeds the prickly fear.  

It's just another grey Sunday.  Oh just another grey Sunday.
No shades of color for this day.
Hopeless grey is the mainstay.

The tears of frustration start to steam down his face.  He's never been a willing runner in life's endless race.  He stands at the edge as the parade passes by.  He's invisible to the masses no matter how hard he cries. He's searched the world over for a kindred soul to share.  His lonely journey continues but the pains too much to bear.

It's just another grey Sunday.  Oh just another grey Sunday.  
No shades of color for this day.
Hopeless grey is the mainstay.