as they sprinkle me in the ocean they, cry once more. this is the last they'll see of me, i will be no more. but sometimes out of me comes new life. a little flame that is hope of triumph over that night

Where muddy waters trap the bold, A maze of muck and tales untold. A sticky mess, where hope goes to die, Also a friend of the Family Guy.

With ink as black as night It has a pen But does not write.

When thunder speaks, I lose my nerve, I blink and stutter, as if unsure. Not out, not on, a pulse obscure, I warn you that your electricity may not endure.

I follow the sun when it slips from sight, I'm gloomy, obscure and not very bright, I’m feared by some, yet needed for rest, Name me, at hiding things I'm the best.