I wade in the muck
Filth is all that I see
But I don't need my eyes
To sense what's stirring beneath
I probe in the mud
Looking for omens and signs
But it's only routine
I know what's approaching this time
I take off my shirt
Paint a complex design on my chest
And begin my task
For the lucid there is no chance of rest
I beat the drums
The throbbing it charges the air all around
When the storm comes
I'll stand my ground