It’s raining through my veins,
It’s raining through my blood,
My hands and feet are cold,
And mold catch up my bones
As I grow old.

It’s raining through my cells,
It’s raining through my womb,
My dreams are feeling foolish
And mold it’s spreading it’s best
Straight there, into my soul.

It’s raining through my skin,
It’s raining through my time,
My memories humble ask to be sold.
And mold can’t touch the fear
As I grow old.