this old cloud

this old cloud keeps hanging overhead
like some old imp who eats away at dread
and here we sit like targets for the wealthy
squeezing us for every drop of healthy

well we won't stand for constant rainy weather
we'll dry off down to the smallest feather
then we'll fly as if it never stopped here
far away from constant aching fear

clouds are made to test our honor standing
so we can make it through with shining grace
standing tall and knowing we're demanding
that we show the best of the human race

all we can do is never give up living
with strength all filled with love and the joy of giving