I saw the gray color
Thought everything was back to normal
But who could have guessed
it was cloud gathering at a place
To drench me in the rain.
I then saw the red
Thought I finally got some love
But who could have guessed
It was the wound in my heart
Spilling out the blood.

Grey days are when the clouds puff a tantrum,
Smoking the sky out of its cozy, azure, play-space
With a big fuzzy blanket that covers the high plains,
And no holes for the blue to poke through.

Occasionally, they spout out their tears
And pelt the poor people below
With a loaded water pistol.

And such people sprout out umbrellas,
Or search for storm's shelter,

Yet one person always prefers to drown in clouds' melancholy.

If I were to change a song,
No if I were to write a(n) album,
The music I would write,
Would be based on the situation you are listening to...
Each track named after a vague moment,
Shared by the general different,
And like minded people.
This track is called 'sitting down talking to person's I mean Scott Pilgrim vs. the world did it,
Why can't i?
So prepare world because I have a secret song that will tell you of my life,
Loves,
And the joy of experience,
Listen closely,
That's how you crack the first mask,
But first I'll ask you,
What is this track called?

Have I told you about that day
When I gave up all hope?
Can I tell you about that day?
Because it just might come again

Just let me tell you
About the day I gave up
When the sky seemed too blue
And my life was dull gray.

No one knows about that day
When I couldn't hold on
But now it must be shared
Before another one like it comes

Today is not like that day
For I can see much more clearly
And my head does not spin, yet
I fear another one like it comes.

When I left this grey place eons ago
and the sun turned to water under my feet
the sky spit out seven horseshoes
hitting our heads in predictable defiance
and the sand turned to wind
the laughter to salt
when the world opened up
Was it really my fault?

The walls worn under my feet in the snow
who dares think badly back
the greyness left my dry blind eyes
and the haze was replaced with black
the sun sets on a cloudless skyless day
and rises on forgotten lands of warmth
trying to reach down and touch what it lost
too high up now
We’re all too dead.

On a day such as this,
I return from my tiring work.
On a day such as this,
I return to this dull world.

I hear it once more--
The droning, and the grayness it explores.

I feel it coming--
The humming, and the slight drumming...

The thinning beats are composed of children's pitter-patter,
And sullen ***** dish clatter.
The tuneless melody speaks of pointless meanings,
And empty greetings.

I hear it once more--
The droning, and the grayness it explores.

I feel it coming--
The humming, and the slight drumming...

I hear it one more time--
Or so I think,
For the part of me that understands
Has already died.