The Storm

With salivating psyches

The Seven start to swarm

Anticipating gluttony with

The coming of the storm

The coming of the storm

If gluttony were a virtue

The Seven would be saints

For the glory of the valley

They have come to surely taint

Who is this Shirley Taint?

With pail and lasso quick at hand

They stalk and set to pounce

While slobbering in their greed

The savory tension mounts

The savory tension mounts

As the rainbow rises

With color rich and true

They gaze in wide-eyed wonder

At the vibrance of each hue

The vibrance of each hue

Leaping forward with the cunning

Of FOX on simple prey

Flinging lassos in the air

But the colors drop away

The colors drop away

Sordid lines come snapping backwards

Clashing with their hopes

Dumbfounded wretched writhing

As they tangle in their ropes

And came a mighty flood

Of the colors they desired

For the rainbows and the flowers

Of the valley had conspired

Revelations often come

When struggling not to sink

That when the meek unite

They aren't helpless a one may think

Drowning in the colors they had come to steal

The valiant persecuted served a devastating meal

No one in the valley wept for them...