Stormsong

We souls are forged within a squall

A random riddle entraps us all

Beneath the downpour things that crawl

Ask if water fears the fall

*

Chilling cold ends every chapter

The same result atop each ladder

Cursed to shout and shit and shatter

Why on earth do we call it matter?

*

There is no rhythm in the rain

No rhyme or reason we can gain

But howling within the hurricane

Dead men are dancing all the same

*

Bleeding blues until we drown

A symphony of lonesome sound

We carve a verse in rumbling cloud

Whilst typhoons twist us all around

*

Ghosts of the gale can never win

But we fight and laugh and fuck and sin

Aerial war without our wings

Singing and whistling amidst the winds

*

The tempest tries to tame our revolt

Lashing the lyrics with lightningbolts

The sound ignites with a million volts

Our band outplays such petty assault

*

A theatre of thunder unites to perform

Music, meaning and myth are born

A page from this drowning book is torn

And we write a song on the empty storm