My rage is not like rain on windows
Slipping away as fast as it comes
My rage is not like an abandoned skateboard
Taking the seasons and warping
My rage is a boiling hot pot of lava
That only gets hotter the longer it sits
I will not roll over like a bitch to her master
I will bite like a dog to his attacker
My rage is like the tide
Leaving and coming back just as strong
My rage is like whistling wind
Whipping out its rage filled song
