War and Rain Song

The war and rain are long;
our patience is gone and burns much faster in the zone.

The war and rain are long;
our broken bones and lullabies char the path to your home
where your war torn love bears a daily weight for years alone.

The war and rain are mean;
their dirty green and red are always messing with your head

The war and rain are mean;
a life unclean and too much pot put a hole in your head—
now your pothole brain is the next best thing to being dead.

You say it’s just a state of mind
and the weather here is fine.
But you can’t hear me call your name
above the drone of bomber planes.

The war and rain are his:
an awful dizzy man with piles of money in his plans.

The war and rain are his;
your life with him and too much weight put a hitch in your stance—
now your lovesick soul waltzes by in a broken dance.

You say it’s just a state of mind
and the weather here is fine.
But you can’t hear me call your name
above the drone of bomber planes.

No one can hear me above the war and rain that fall…
on us all.

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