To what delight dramatic wonder do I owe the gracious thunder to sing it's song of fright?
Tis the beating of this thunder that sends my heart a flutter as the normal surely shudder on this night
Ah yes, it was the deeds of my immoral doing that has send your lord protruding his own blackened skies to punish the wicked and rectify their lives
But alas I cannot be so mild as your sparks still run wild in this blackened boasting sky
So for now I sit and wait and pontificate
Waiting, for a while
To visit the gates of pearls made
Alas don't disappoint me with your poor aim. Here, I refuse to remain
Don't tease me with your fire. Send me home to my desire
Hurry thunder
Hurry fire
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