I caught a cloud, t’was pink and light, we had fun and laughed all night.
I caught a cloud, t’was dark and thick, we had a fight, I made him cry, and ‘pon my face he did spit.
I caught a cloud, twas white and airy, we talked awhile ‘til he floated up and away, high over the prairie.
I caught a cloud, t’was black and loud, he went on about death and anger, ‘til his booming [and] lightning became much too frightening, [and I had to run away].
I caught a cloud, we had good times, I took his picture, I know his name and he knows mine.
Believe it or not, each cloud that I caught was the same one—then again—was not.