Below these clouds I wonder when I'm going to see the sun again.
I heard a rumour it might not be there... anymore.
But come the rain, and come the wind...
Come storm, come thunder, come lightning...
Come every single shoddy thing the world can throw…
They'll find me no downtrodden sod,
No trembling leaf, no breaking clod,
For I, and the wandering sun, do not so quickly pass.