As if the raindrops have voices, they are all screaming, "What the hell is your problem, enjoy this!!" Dancing on your shoulders like fear, bullying you into something much more severe, but you keep a blind man's ear to the raindrops and listen to them scream, "What the hell is your problem, enjoy this!!" Blinking through the blinding stains, as if your looking through dirty window panes and as if your feeling subsequent pain it is fully ironic that you're sharing your eyes with an inanimate objected labelled with the heavy feeling of the beating rain, all the while it's screaming into your eye lashes, "What the hell is your problem, enjoy this!!" Shielding all of the most intimate things because somehow the rain can drive them out, and hoping something doesn’t slip out of your trench coat doused in weather, to squeak and shimmy on beautiful pebbles and slip and fall and bump your head, the old man will still be snoring while the rain is screaming, "What the hell is your problem, enjoy this!!" the cars are screeching from near and far causing you to stay in your bed, soggy puddles of ideas form on the floor, tripping you up on bath robe hope, searching for comfort food in a weathery daze and were does the sun go when it decides it is allowed to rain, wondering, while listening to the soundtrack of the rain, "What the hell is your problem, enjoy this!!"
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