Analysis of Weatherdevil

Upon my rising from my night-lay
my inside weatherman said to stay
in my cloistered one man town
and not to outside walk around
but why? I queried with confusion
because you risk inside ablution
you’ll wash all of your pain away
and you know me, I hope it stays
all know that if it bleeds it leads
and I would have you fill my needs
for hurtling clouds of hurt today
clarion-calling you to delay
you know the ones; they whisper secrets
of long past sins and bitter regrets
coiling about you, serpents of mist
tendril-fingers coldly grasping your wrist
and lead you to the suffering-box
the beating-house with steely locks
I have no interest in new tornadic
cones of raging but sporadic
swirly-windy vortices
that fashion missiles from the trees
my first love is the driving rain
that makes all grey until your pain
is driven through your holy ghost
and yours is holier than most
Ah, but I have prozac umbrellas
to save me from you weather-fellas
Think you I am the maker, then
of droplets that reveal your sin
oh no I’m just the weatherman
who loves to see you take in hand
the instrument that sends you onward
a single shot to join the soul-herd
milling about the cosmic archway
believing they will have their last say
Oh will they not, sir barometric
meteorologist of card tricks
sleight-of-hand with joie de vivre
but suffering is up your sleeve
I admit I am the master
of turning bliss into disaster
but i can only use the aces
provided by bloodthirsty faces
worn by my marks, unwilling victims
until I’ve unstrung the hers and hims
but I must return to my screamstage
the broken ones need reasons to rage
my thermometric lies to spit
into the faces that desire it
and if you dare to challenge me
you’ll quickly swing beneath a tree.