Under the rain, my cold heart takes flight
Through the cloudy skies of my own dead mind
To experience serenity in my own sight
To fill my soul's worth of joy and delight.
The mossy green vines under my feet
Tangling them at my every step
To feel the dread of my own defeat
To melt me under the pressure of my own heat.
But don't you see?
This is only one part of me—
I give and I receive the destruction of my own wrath
To feel the wrong of my own made path.
In the inner part of me,
All the days are rainy
A seed of doubt sprouted to a tree
But that's the only side you'll see of me.