Jeremiad
Where the storm clouds go
You better go a-chasin’
Cause the lake has got so low
I can see the bottom of the basin
And all we’ve got for thunder is the beating of the drum—
There’s gonna be a year when the rain won’t come
Now they’re dry as cotton,
They’ve come from near and far
Just to see the fish bones rotten
On the bed of the reservoir
The sycamores are silent, the cicadas have ceased to hum—
There’s gonna be a year when the rain won’t come
Maybe this is it.
You’re sucking stones
And you’re asking god
Won’t you turn my bones
Into a divining rod
But no matter how you pray, no matter where you’re from—
There’s gonna be a year when the rain won’t come
Maybe this is it.
Your lips are bleedin’
Your eyes are crying grit.
It never rained in Eden,
Well maybe you’re living in it
And from the city to the slum, from the highland to the pit,
One year the rain wont come, and maybe this is it—
Maybe this is it.