A storm is brewing in the sea.
And power’s gone for hours now.
I wait, I wait, I wait to see
The showers crush the flowers’ brow.
What right they have to pretty be?
So pretty fresh, so pretty red?
The rest of us in us we see
The ugliness of pretty dead.
A storm is brewing in my eyes,
So wet and salty, thanks to sweat.
My power’s gone for hours now.
I feel so helplessly upset.