Texty: Voodoo Economics. If : Then :: Iminami. Hit Soft Like A Featherload Of Bricks.

Melancholy strikes without a warning
and you wonder where it comes from,
and you wonder where it's going.
The times when it finds you sometimes hold it deep inside them:
to be released before the morning,
when dawn strokes without a warning.

The daybreak hits soft,
like a featherload of bricks.
The microphone's turned off
or it's just barely in the mix.
You want to feel the feeling like you're up to see the dawn;
you want to hear the first bird singing,
but you've been awake too long.

Then the turning clicks into place.
You lose a sense of sadness somewhere along the way.
You know it's coming to haunt you again someday,
but you can't seem to remember fear or melancholy

(Thanks to Alison Conard for these lyrics)