I will devour the sky, and the storm it carries.
Biting down onto the hail that was destined for you.
The tornadoes tickling my insides,
while hurricanes drown out my thoughts.

If only I could,
                                                  steal crime
and hide
it deep within my darkest of shadows.
Where you can never find
                                                  the hatred or the lies
Of the human characteristics
that displays the routines of habit,
just to pay the mortgage,
and we pay, and pay.

So let me eat that too.
I heard that kind of paper is quite valuable,
and I don't mind if I'm already full.

I guess I just thought,
if the weatherman could lie,
just like the politicians,
why couldn't I?