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Reaching down from grey forming cloudsa rumbling locomotive’s charging soundthe vortex spins its mighty handsas it bounces and vacuums across living landdestroying every time it touches down
My favourite dream is about a bus. A bus with a spotless white interior, so clean that I didn't want to move. I was SURROUNDED by people that I knew, but didn't know.  
Hurricanes, tornadoes, strange omens wreak day's woes, Foes unseen, it's of the people unclean, Pollution sown so mean, this is not just a dream, Fiends of torrential rain, causing pain as the water flows down drains,
When there is nothing left What do you do? When there is nothing you can do How do you send your time? When there is no one to talk to Do you talk to yourself?
I smell the aura of destructionAll around OklahomaI feel the night all over againAll too well
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