Idola

Our love of the rain, is a burning tyre, not pine needles and hay, an offering to the Gods, like ice cold fish knives, to show we're not alone, we were never easy or brave, around blue midnight, for what my family craved, demons rattle their bones, among candlelit signs, they pester me for loans, will take them anyway, our eyes meet the tide, at some terrible place, won't keep trouble at bay, this lifeline required, stumble in the roaring Hades, dampen their fire.