• When I dream of Hurricanes,
    I can barely speak for lack of sleep,
    Driving young minds insane.

    And I question the motives of the storm.
    When you're stuck in the middle, and the air.
    The air is spinning so abruptly as you scream.
    I know you love me, I know you wouldn't leave,
    But everything eventually ends in the aftermath,
    Where debris scatters the streets of you and me.

    I awake to the sound of the pouring rain,
    That this drenched July promised would end.
    I remember when rain used to be so soothing,
    But now, nothing is ever as it really seems,
    In the middle of these fever dreams.