Stormy Sunday

wings of the tsunami
flying thru a sandy night

raining thoughts
walking thru a burning sea

islands sinking
man are dying

bullets made of stone
shootin’ down the houses

no day longer waits
the floating hell

remember known tales
last days startin’

eyes of god
closed for lunch

re-opening will happen someday
place known – date not

but it’s still this day
stormy sunday

exit in few days
next year knockin’ on the door
… 1999