Those few shy sun rays That fill the saddest valleys With the grace of their warmness Are not aware of the joy they bring when They steal their way in from the 70's clouds White, grey and dark as the night Choked by the rage of the stormy skies Putting up with our accusing eyes Blaming them for this furious weather Not knowing that they're under the pain and pressure Of the scrunchy lightening tearing them up like a whip Few of them survive while others slip Between the hands of the mad forces pushing them to cry Yes, they boil with the urge to pry As raindrops ,as cold as the heavens' heart, With the demons pressing "restart", Soak us with the filthy rain Of this silly, slavering game Every round that a devil gains