Closeness to the anger.

T'was dark n dreary on that eve, the lightning caught my eye, a wild thing about the weather pertaining to the sky.

Closeness to the anger of the God's, light rods thrown from heaven's door,  to the crouching man whom seeks no blame Crawling on the floor,  

He must away with sadness,  madness even more, for certain the light would find him there cower he no more, 

but stand as a conductor with a fork of silver in his hand, Frail and afraid of death, but willing to command,  

The dark night in vigorous debate over the ruling of the sky, He whom Wales the bitter words before it cast his eye's,  

cries in the night have mercy for a begger on the street,  who's feet have none but weather to wear, A puddle there to greet, and the rumbles of his insanity bare no fruit to eat .