Oh Rain, enough slapping my face
This face is old
Your hands are cold
I didn't forget,
When we first met
You told a tale that was somber,
Now, here I am with my number
Perhaps it was the time that was creeping
Giving sensations when I was weeping
Down here sweating blood in the galleys
Sending me for oars through the valleys
Afraid of your drops filling the ocean
Setting my drowning gently in motion
I kicked the doors to run away
Where ever I turned your cloud's sway
Turning me back with a bleeding heart
Savvy tormentor, is this your art?
Perhaps one day when I am not
Far away from this evil rot
I'll find you midst your thundering shout
Will you then tell me, what life is about?
— 12/10/2005
