it patters down,
it splatters the pane,
as the sun made it's round,
the blood red rain,

so late at night,
that the sky is red,
the thunder will fight,
and fill all with dread,

fire and brimstone,
rain from the sky,
wash the world in red tones,
pierced by a cry,

see how it lingers,
in the cold air,
it grips with icy fingers,
of death and despair,

always so tender,
my heart's in a blender,
my stomach's on spin cycle,
don't fight with St. Micheal.