Tumbling words
It’s bad news, Mister
A twister of a day
With clouds like Kim Jong’s bunkers
And hail down on the shore
And the geese are screaming thunder
in skeins across the sky-
A storm net to snag your dreaming
And haul you back to die.
It’s bad news, Mister
A twister of a day
You’d be wise to get the jist, sir
Of what I’m trying here to say.