Can't Win

You know the storm is coming

the storm comes every day

masks come off at sunset

then there's hell to pay

mild as still waters

for moments-at-a-time

but built-up she reaches boiling

not bottled inside
flash
cork pops
can't win, 
come sunset

the wrath of a thousand cretins

howling in her head

no room for hollow excuses

while dealing with the dread

shriek your witches' howl

bay at the fading moon

matters not the reason

the end will be here soon

dear lord...

the end will be here soon.

V