If you've lived on this dark continent, nowhere else will be content.
Traveling over a grassy plain, many miles ahead is the rain.
Sun shines on the golden grass, creating an incredible contrast.
Grass of gold and sky blue black, as clouds upon each other stack.
Rolling thunder in your ears, as hot wind your body sears.
Feel the static in the air, just before the lightening there.
Forks of flame to the ground, followed by the explosive sound.
Ice wind coming from the storm, patterns in the grass do form.
Tree explodes from a bolt of flame, hear the roar of falling rain.
Like a curtain across the land, solid wall close at hand.
Beating hard upon the grass, bending breaking it like chaff.
Standing water forming thick, cant go in the soil so quick.
Like an army it marches across the plain, behind it the sun is out again.
In it's wake the steam will rise, sweat your body mist your eyes.
Hear the water trickle through, the undergrowth to form life new.
The land transforms from gold to green, once the storm has come and been.
Written by Pete Barlow 29/01/2001
Email : Pete Barlow