Above pete's head as he fumbles with his key

The clouds get dark start brawling

War games ancient faces pushing eachother around

The sky's changing

A foaming storm is coming

A howling mist a growling downpour

Pete don't see it

Pete's too busy tryna make his key fit he can't quite get it right

Now in their rooms

Alisha and esther and gemma

Are too concerned with their own thoughts to think about the weather

But we see clouds like furious ink

Thick liquid sinks and whips the wind

Pitch shifted rumble screams from a swolen grin

There's a big storm rolling in