The fleeting pull
of the cataclysmic 
Beckons me with all its might
And I feel set alight
By a passion I can barely contain
Oh, let the rain
In all the might, it pours
And, he, the one my heart adores
Just strides into a room
As it is pouring doom
And announces 
What the will of all thing denounces
That there is life in the old dog yet
I work the bog and I forget
What all this rendering timber will do
In a hundred lifetimes I’d still choose you