Upon the streets the rainstorm crackles
Like firecrackers along the pavement
The people run for shelter
Cower under awnings
Hover in the doorways of dark cafes

They pray
With their heads tilted to the crying heavens
One which preys on the cements
They wish for the rain to wash away
Their sorrows

There's those,
Brave fools running the roads amok with
Hardened bodies of steel whose fumes pump
Into the forlorn skies
Turning the sunniest days to night.
Prattling along in their ignorant cages
And they laugh at the weeping sky

As thunder breaks open the clouds
And it spits a tongue of lightning
The skyscrapers tremble
Quiver from the gale
Retract into themselves and shudder
The buildings suffer
Blocking blows from the angry gods,
Buffer winds from tumultuous titans

And the storm stretches on
Telling tall tales in weeping sheets
Soaking roads until their slick

The street lamps hold fast
Snatch the cement with iron grips
Their fierce eyes squint into the darkness
The roar of rain had created
Just for them

Night falls all too quickly
The sun had no chance to say farewell
The storm took hold too hastily
Too fast for the streets to be prepared

And it is relentless in its wake
A beast that berates the flimsy castles
Of men playing kings
Of children playing gods

And although those sky scrapers, space walkers, time takers, muck makers,
Those steel bodies made from the hands of fools
Who pollute and laugh of cheap perfume
And expensive consequences
Who run around as if they were gods
Their days as kings come with a number
with a string to cut
an expiration.
They'll turn sour as the rain crashes so sweetly on their heads
The sky will laugh before it eats their graves too.