The water's getting wild, rough around the edges.
And yet so peaceful underneath, the overlaying surface.
With the rugged colored water, and the storm starts a brewing;
the wildest fish are only caught, when the darest of them all,
start the search, before nightfall.
Through the tunnel the forest calls;
the owls tune with the howls, and the mice with the coons.
The rain pours from the clouds, starving for the attention,
the skies don't give them. And when the thunder starts his growling,
you know it's time to run in fear. For it's fear itself that should be scared.
The skies fill of blackness, you know it's getting closer.
The time to start living, is the time, least wanted.