When I think of the weather,
Will it gather me together,
When will I go to forever?
Am I sure I’ll make it now or never?
Who knows? Who cares? Who dares?
What can I get? What would I bet?
Nothing? Something? Everything?
Aaaah, maybe many things.

Have I not traveled? Have I not wondered?
Small becomes great, great becomes grieved,
Grieved turned to weird, weird amazed red,
Black is beautiful and harvest bountiful,
“Mayday! Mayday!” The voice on the phone banged,
We need help, we are scared, we are dead,
Everything I see endangered me, diminishes me,
Hey, hey, yehey, maybe one thing can!

Is it dangerous? How serious it is?
Can we break free and come to plea?
Or we just slip away pretend don’t see
The moment of truth about to be,
Break the walls, open the gates and we will pray,
No, not me, nor even them, but all can be,
So dangerous, so poisonous, so venomous, a life of prey.

Sssssshhh, you’re biting the bullet, yes bite the bullet
Before it hits you, me, and them.

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