Black Sunday Afternoon

On the black Sunday afternoon Sun is pale like the moon When you look to the sky Holy holy why All fades into blue On the black Sunday afternoon No good time to walk alone On a bike riding home When you look to the sky Holy holy why All fades into blue On the black Sunday afternoon Bad luck come at just a car On the right side hears a call And sees a black ref flying low Bother head no mistletoe Nothing really moves On black Sunday afternoons You wake up in a water-bed And on the back of your head A lump and just a tiny hole Almost no light at all in here When you call You can't hear your own voice at all They gather up, something's wrong The ask around, no one knows Well have you been where the rivers cross By the water in the moss Nothing really moves On black Sunday afternoons Sun is pale like the moon When you look to the sky Holy holy, holy holy why All fades into blue On black Sunday afternoons