The river was rainbow stew, the fishes choked and cursed.The thirsty dogs spat fire, rolled in glue, then they burst.The fur balls flying, trees were dying--dandelions were crippled, bald . . .We saw it all in colour--now we're waiting for the cloud.A mother forcefed baby milkwhich ticked and bubbled black.She sank it back with plastic pillsalthough it stank . . . seemed thankful.Rolled up in her sack,she won't be back,she won't grow old . . We saw it all in colour--now we're waiting for the cloud.And crocodiles were sprouting wings.Dead sheep filled the fields.The children rode on locustsaiming slings at anythingthat could be k**ed and eaten raw.No weeping sore, no claws, no balls . . .We saw it all in colour,now we're waiting for the cloud.We're told it could be 15 days,we're busy digging holes . . .The deep ones for the pure, selected--shallow ones for old and sick,the derelicts, the poor,the junkies, criminals, the who*es.There's more, there's red and yellow,black and blue.There's me, there's you.(Waiting for the cloud.)