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