The clouds cry,
The sky screams;
Flashing its fists
And shaking the trees.
The world is blue,
And gray—so pale.
The grass is famished
And flowers don't care.
The sorrow above will
Spread triumph below,
And the earth softens
Like woven calico.
The clouds cry,
The sky screams;
Flashing its fists
And shaking the trees.
The world is blue,
And gray—so pale.
The grass is famished
And flowers don't care.
The sorrow above will
Spread triumph below,
And the earth softens
Like woven calico.