Looking sbove the skyshouting all the timeeven when its dryit screams out its mindstrange are its emotionchanging from time to timeplaying dead and alivefunny nature above usit was singing in the morninghappy like a rhymethen it got brownsadly not so fineits never to dustynor always brighti can take all the worldbut not the heaven aboveso i wish it became an umbrellaas its rains from the heavenssometimes pouring blood
