They reach for eternal hands but hold such mortal fears
Praying it will rain forever to forever hide their tears
And yes, they look up to the sky, but with eyes closed and mouths open
Drowning in the misery of rituals unbroken

Converting vivacious minds by bathing them in drudgery
Comforming them to that what has been must always be
And they them, but I am me, and I hope you choose to be you
Closing your mouth and opening your eyes to see what you aught to

And we must see the breaking to realize fixing must be done
For though the rain may mask the tears, it also masks the sun
No new words have been spoken, only broken down and renewed
To still reach for immortal hand, but also skies of blue