Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Story Of A Sad Man
The red sky tells the story of a sad man.
The clouds form, the tears well.
The crashing bolts say of his anger.
The flashing streaks, the deafening roar.
Will the story ever end? Will the storm ever cease?
The clouds may clear, the sun might shine.
Soon we'll see the blood red sky, soon we;ll hear the crashing bolts.
Never will we have everlasting calm, nor the tranquility we yearn.
The clouds form, the tears well.
The crashing bolts say of his anger.
The flashing streaks, the deafening roar.
Will the story ever end? Will the storm ever cease?
The clouds may clear, the sun might shine.
Soon we'll see the blood red sky, soon we;ll hear the crashing bolts.
Never will we have everlasting calm, nor the tranquility we yearn.
