Oh, I've got things in this suitcase I'm carrying,
Well, I've got things, and some of them you can't see,
Yeah, and the others, let's pretend they're of no consequence,
Yeah, I've always had this black cloud over me.

When the ground you've stood upon is giving way under the riptide and flood of a cold sea,
Yeah, and your heart keeps making tracks to where it shouldn't be going back,
Yeah, I've always had this black cloud over me.

Yeah, and pride, she's a pit of many snakes,
And reason, well, she's still the devil's whore,
Though the cannonball may fly and the sabres baptise, well, turn the eyes of faith upon the Lord.

And some will shake off the sloth of faithlessness, while others simply languish in their sleep,
Me, well, I just fight to stay awake,
Yeah, I've always had this black cloud,
Always had this black cloud,
Always had this black cloud over me,
Yeah, I've always had this black cloud.

Over me, oh,
Over me, oh,
Yeah, over me.