For every storm there is a room br And find the palace now, br From deserts are a tomb and gloom, br Where clothes must just allow. br br The clothing kisses us on cheek, br When effort made us worse, br The cloth we wear is rather chic, br And worry is a curse. br br The storm shall grow at all the speed br That problems make us mad, br You did not follow, or then bleed br As madness is your dad.