The sound of bitterness falling down the wet road,
The cracks and rips make it hard to walk;
never to run,
We speed up but splashes fall on us, like a heavy burden.
No one can help; no one can see
the simple truth behind the scene,
The sweet and sour drops falling down the face
make it hard for people's race.
Some overlap, some stay behind
which are we, but the ones to blame,
for such a slowly pace.
What has happened?
That caused a downfall?
Rummers never end...
Rummers never die.
So it seems the truth hasn't revealed.
It will someday.
It will some how.