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
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
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
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