In his heart, he knew it wasn’t someone else’s fault at all That he lived in a grave, smothered and alone. But, perversely, by blaming his friends, his boss, his family, He could ladder his way out into a long gone home. HIS HOME. His island. Where he breathed free At the insufficient cost of his decrepit soul. As the rain pours down and he watches Noah in his ark float by He can hold his umbrella up, quite dry Until the flood engulps him whole.