I wish I was a shaman or tribal chieftain,
To get the sky bleeding in dryest seasons,
I know there's no rhyme or reason, higher meaning I believe in,
But my mind is reeling, can't fight the feeling,
Hail is a Hail Mary, it's guided healing,
So a Noah's Ark flood would be a sight to see then,
Quite appealing, so even I, the heathen,
I can't deny the sea then.

I just wanna lie outside in the rain,
No sign of the pain, sit still 'till my clothes need drying again,
I can't tell if I'm crying, it's lining my face and I'm dying for space,
Watching droplets pop atop the bridge of my nose, inching so close,
But I'm sitting alone, sniffing on the petrichor, I'm meant for more,
But death's the door I'm headed for.