Cold

No one likes to be left in the rain, To be subject to the wastes of the cold Grey sky and marinate in it's wetness. It destroys any chance of a fire, Of getting warm, Of staying dry... But can anyone stay completely dry In this world? Is there any roof immune from the rain? Thick blankets of security make you feel warm But they only hide. They cannot eradicate the cold, They cannot dispel the intense fear that fire Has for wetness. And yet when faced with heat, the wet Things retreat. Their hope of domination dries Up in a passionate flame. They lose the fire, They give up. They throw caution to the rain. And caution is our blanket, our own shield from the cold, Our transparent blanket of lies, no warmth. It means comfort to be warm. 'Cause wood never sparks when it's wet. And water never fails to get cold. And we never fail to get old and dry. We shrivel without rain, But we freeze without fire. Haven't we all been subject to fire That's friendly? It has never been warm. And neither are the beatings that rain Upon us and bring the tears that wet Our stubborn faces. Quickly we dry Them to hide them from the omnipresent cold. We have been kicked like dogs into the cold. And when we succeed, they steal our fire. We are not allowed to get dry. They sheer our wool and leave us "sin calor". They drown us until we are wet And soaked from the fruits of the rain. Many have set their blankets on fire To escape the ravages of the cold. But unbeknown to them, they can only be saved by the rain.