The gathering clouds poem

The gathering clouds,
the gathering clouds,
oh, how they threaten now,
how they threaten now,
the gathering clouds in mostly grey,
and a little white that darkens out the light,
the gathering clouds,
that threaten to follow me wherever I go,
and that threaten to unload their rain upon me,
and dismay me further still,
as I walk quickly home down the road.
Damn you,
do you not have somewhere else to go,
do you not have somewhere else to go,
because it is such a bore,
and because I have seen all your shows,
I have seen all your shows before,
and they leave me as if comatose,
when your dullness fills me with such depressing views,
views that I no longer wish to know,
that I no longer wish to know.

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