The rain has come

He surrenders to his fate

It is hiding him

From he sounds of his mental state

...And the rain falls

...And the rain pours down

It is fair to say

That he drifted

On the salt of the open sea

And the words that bleed in his mouth

Carry him, drag him to the deep

Heave your own arms

Caught adrift

Embrace the shade

The drama is torn asunder

Thus I fall inside my fate

Waiting for the fever

And I will sing to my crusade

Between the barren and fruitful

I got lost int he daily grind

There is no way that supports my

Dark conceptions to unwind

I am the art for the people

The apple of their crying eyes

Missioner for the seeking

Chewing their lives with contempt

Like a storm front that he precedes

It is the sound of the dreamer that screams

Bashing clocks he had always wondered

But never spoke of

It is the strength, the weakness

And the perfect in between

Facing everything that he walked upon

The eye had hurried by

Compromising the smallest

Fractions of a particle