Oh, slate-gray cloud
Floating around enormously in these darkened skies:
What have you in store for me?
What future can you promise me?

Will everything change for the better?
Or should we sit and drink a cup of tea
And expect the worst?
Will the darkness in ourselves would be replaced
By kindness and happiness that got lost in our struggle for
life,
Or should we lie down in darkness and expect the worst?

Oh, slate-gray clouds
Gathering in numbers to strike us down:
What have you in store for me?
What kind of presents are promised by your greatness?

Would the lies and hate stop tearing us up inside?
And hands will be crossed with one another,
Or should we wait with anticipation for the apocalypse?
Would the human race change his ways?
So they could see the ugliness in its glory we gave it
Or should we all stand aside, shadows cast by a final
salute?

Oh, slate-gray clouds of time,
What more anguish have you in store for us
This time?