I refuse to be trapped again by your
Twisting tornado tongue!
You can thunder to high heaven
And flash your fangs at me like I'm
The menace that crawls with its belly against
Razor sharp blades of grass,
But when you think you can blur my vision
I can see clearly out of your calm eye
As peeling gales carrying weak, sinful bodies
Shrieks royal praises of your name.
Does your bruising rain know no end?
Will your wind finally whittle the world?
I think not, tempestuous tyrant,
I think not