A packed endless underbelly,
o'er, my cover the winding flyer.
But concrete coils can't keep me;
drawn out by the love song old,
drops, the first of many;
hola Monsoon! At last you're here.
Marching band and laser shows,
grand entry - refreshing vigour.
Standing out the infant shower,
till the gush and sprinkle of truth.
Wait? Not with such a bait,
pedalling in this spray of life.
A trickle down my lycra hood,
cotton n skin now a sweet gel.
Drops keep the eyes open,
mist helps the wary heart.
Splash, a puddle - the flooded roads,
cycling's fun in midnight rain.
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