They tear my soul with a sudden flash
in a notorious and fabulous way.
My words are turned into ash
when they descend to make me pray.
Are you not being brash?
My dear lords I cannot
hear a word that you speak
when you try to make me weak
with your big thunder shots.
Ghostly gods and winter lords,
thy flames shiver me to tears.
Are those sounds your accords
that come through my ears?
Am I turned backwards?
Is your work now done?
Please don't appear at night
with the light, oh, so bright,
more brighter than the sun.
Thunder and lighting are brothers
called upon my nightmare.
I shall assist my ardors
now you both shall behave.
Where are those others
that frightened me to death?
Hush your mouth from the skies!
I shall not cover my eyes!
Nor shorten my breath!
Despair, despair gentlemen.
You heard my idiotic pray.
And the silence now come from the den
that the spiders saw me say.
I'm outnumbered again
by the profanity of your words.
But I collect more bravery
that your monsters born briery,
for the bats to sing songs.
"I am the Tempest!
Your mother and your queen.
You come from my nest
the strongest cloud ever seen!"
Dear mother nature will give me rest
and the peace I dream since I've been born.
She will rock my cradle,
and my soul she will dandle,
beneath the eye of the storm.