The clouds tends to gather,
The rains tend to come,
Their thunder like the rumble
Of a distant drum
The clouds tend to scatter,
The sun peeks again,
And worlds goes in circles, like
Their human
Kin

The clouds tends to gather,
The rains tend to come,
Their thunder like the rumble
Of a distant drum
The clouds tend to scatter,
The sun peeks again,
And worlds goes in circles, like
Their human
Kin