There are drums in the distant gray sky,
And they drum to the beat of the wind,
And my heart follows closely in time,
To the sound bringing chills to my skin.
And the hooves of the deer echo back,
As they’re racing across the long field,
With the lightning the sky seems to crack,
From the bolt that great Jupiter wields.
And the storm brings destruction in rain,
And the oak trees bend down to the floor,
And the ones who do not bow in pain,
Are the ones who are surely no more.
