Come on, get out of the rain.
There’s fires in the street
that even this downpour won’t
extinguish.
You look so cold, so wet,
so elusive as you wait
under the crimson clouds
that you can only see in the middle
of a raging storm.

Come on, get out of the rain.
We don’t have much time left.
Soon, the flood will come and
tear us limb from limb.
The fires will burn down the
city we built.
Come on.
For our sake.

Come, get out of the rain.
We can make a toast together,
to the future,
as we listen to Billy Joel
by the fire.
I’ve got a bottle of red,
I’ve got a bottle of white.
Just let me know
what suits your appetite.