Click-clacks and snip snaps,
Loud rolls and sharp snares.
Every beat, shelved the pain,
See, won’t you? It’s the rain.

Oh, you.

Spilled myself, flowed nowhere. But,
Far away, a sane Spaniard wrote, Tonto,
Hues are paid with hues.
Plight of the transient drops, said I,

To you.

- Aadil Varsh