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?