What Though The Odds

I had gotten possessive of the rain,
very possessive in fact,

it was my modiste,
my confidante,
my steadfast companion when everyone else turned in for the eve,

and its mistress the thunder was getting weary of my presence,
joining our conversations whenever we were getting too comfortable with each other,

My morning runs,
in the rain,
were interrupted with the pangs of a jealous sidebar,

so one day I barked back,

after all,
water was for the people,
and I was of the people,
and it was just as much mine as it was his,
the thunder,
I mean

It was dreary in here,
and out there,
and I just wanted to keep things the way they were between the two of us,

that was only fair,
and if it came to it,
I would have to shake it down,

shake down the thunder from the sky--