Cursive
"Harold Weathervein"

Harold walks down any street of this town
both crier and witness the sun drops the clouds shift
his legs twitch

the clocks chime on the cafes, pharmacies, and dime
stores, in bar rooms he sits still all alone erupting
in his head it's like the weather
back and forth hits like the weather
when it rains it pours down

weatherman, do you feel?
is it stormy inside of your veins?