The weatherman (or, the felonies are magnet on my coat)

Why are you running in that direction?
It ainít sound.
Youíve got to climb the wall
To make it back around.
Iíve got to go.
I have to go.
Fell in through the wrong black hole,
now the felonies are magnets on my coat.
Afraid to take the fast way home,
I take cover in the shelter of my own shadow.
The hurried pace of my heart and feet,
as I envision the odor of my home sweet
home, itís like Iíve fallen right beside
my own tombstone.
Then, I hear the crow.

I see the distance of the jagged tier beneath.
How could this happen in a mint democracy?
They trumped you all - so easily!
Now caw for silver with great alacrity.

What does it say when you look
at the weathervane?
Will the southern winds subside, or inflame?
What about the weatherman?
Has he got something to postulate,
other than rain?

I am now higher than a Himalayan peak,
and come to think of it I feel terribly weak...
and so I fall.