Rare Form

Shout at the succulent clouds 
Who, in reply, wring themselves out on the house
Doubt that your lungs carry cries 
Sufficient to pry weeping eyes out of these skies
I remember why

Waiting around day in, day out
Swallow the keys
When we're released 
Waiting around 
Which wasted hours are our ire?

God is where you let it be
So tell me if there are such things
Are they things such as these? 
Oh, so rile up the holes in your head
Let each little abyss have it sips
On the infinite tongue kisses

When we sit still 
Will we distill 
Spirits you might swill?

Waiting around day in, day out
Swallow the keys
When we're released 
Waiting around 
Which wasted hours are our ire?
Let me be the one rare form