We lived in a time,
When nothing would rhyme.
All hope was lost and dead.
The heat of the day,
Found again in the night;
There seemed no escaping the dread.
But out of the blue, some clouds did form,
As the stars were lost in a storm,
And all of a sudden we found delight,
On a hopelessly sullen summer night.
In the midst of a drought, what could have caused;
Such a beating of the rains?
The storm somehow, for now has paused,
Some conspiracy yet remains.