Letras:Cursive. The Ugly Organ. Harold Weathervein.

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

the clocks chime on cafes, pharmacies, and dime stores, in bar rooms he stils all alone erupting.
inhisbeaditsliketheweatherback&forthitsliketheweather
when it rains it pours down

Weatherman, do you feel?
Is it stormy inside of your veins?