Halfway down a hurricane
The cattle flying high
Their mooing groans set hurtful tones
I’m sure I’m why they cry
I know not for what rent-o’-rain
The pilot pushed me wide
But in the eye I depth-defy
With nowhere left to hide
Wherethen in the Air
It takes a fool to smile as he faces a storm. Perhaps I am a fool.
1–2 minutes
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