The bloodred Sun rises.
Misplaced souls and victims stuck in the upper parts of the atmosphere
giving the rays their ominous colour.
Blood particles risen from dead bodies float high in the air
painting the sky in orange-red.
Clouds form where humidity is highest, travel west
to a grey society, with hazed heads
where it rains Dead.
Blood reigns on our hands. Emphasis on reign.
Silently participating, masters of passiveness.
Shackled minds, broken chest
every infant born deaf
For sheep speak and think the word of the flock.
So wisdom's lost, past mistakes made will
eventually lead up to another rainy day.
This vicious cycle will stay the same
the climate acts according to our rainy ways.
For the smell of rain and the taste of blood
is ironically the same.