Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May
Gusts and zephyrs ripping out and about
Not blown away but Arcade Fire did say
In neighborhood three, the power is out

The month of May, it’s a violent thing
But nothing like the chaos of the mind
In the age of anxiety we sing
The praises of a cruel daily grind

With flashes of lightning strikes one and two
What is good enough if not good enough
When in the suburbs where no cars go to
The parts of town where the edges are rough

      The harsh winds can cut straight into your bones
      Look out kid, ’cause it’s your only way home