With black clouds looming overhead
The waves rise like perched vultures waiting for death
If there was light none would shine through
None was allowed too
Hands raised in praise but willing to take a helping hand
A dead fish is all that is recovered
With its mouth open a black hole appears to swallow all that remains
Drowning in sorrow and flying with rage another empty vessel tries to take the pain
Sympathetic eyes held by a natural gestation of listening but cast away
At the first sign of a commercial
Thirty seconds or a minute
A car wash or a failed lawyer
Everyone listens to see what they can sell you
An antacid, or a bottle of perfume
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