When at last will this storm pass? It’s acid-like rain
Eats away at my mood swing. A simple flatline
Has been cast into turbulence. To be seasick
Amid faint, rumbling thunder and words that are thick
Clouds that offer confusion is of whose design?
That, of course, is my choosing. I cannot complain.

Back when I was a sailor, they gave people pills
To more easily cope with the random motion
Of the steadfast and mighty home known as our ship.
Would it make a difference were I to equip
My soul with some salvation by having some fun
As the wayward commanders configure their wills?

Every ship needs a captain as well as a crew
That is shipshape and sober and plays by the rules.
Being that we don’t have one, can we stay afloat
And maintain our direction in waters remote?
Those who now are in power will go down as fools
And the storm that exists now will simply blow through.