Well he thought about it every day
Of the sound and of the feel of the hurricane
Every time he closed or opened his eyes
He'd dream of heavy skies
He'd dream that he could conjure
He'd long to feel the danger
The branches that could snap
The bones that could be cracked
I'll be exempt from blame
I'll pin it on a million things
But the fact remain the same
I'll creep under the covers
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