The Shepherd Of Sorrow

Sunshine rays on his face
The breeze carries away his stress
But clouds appear in disgrace
His mood will change I guess

Moodswing-day, black and white
Shadows dance in the light
Moodswing-day, voice inside
Brainwork conquers his night

They have called him the shepherd of sorrow
The one who doesn't believe in a brighter tomorrow
The one that feeds his own depression
The shepherd of regression

When the widow starts dying
When if it's branches are drowning
When the child starts crying
At the border of the black pool
Staring into the mirror of his soul

Moodswing-day, black and white
Shadows dance in the light
Moodswing-day, voice inside
Brainwork conquers his night

But every time (when) he looks into his self
He must admit there is a little light
At the end of this road
There has to be a way out
A sparkle of hope, a shiver
Perhaps it is the grim reaper's blade?