It's quiet now, just crickets
and
a dog fight somewhere in the
far away
In my heart I hold your photograph
and the thought of you comes
on like the feel
of the coming rains...
Hot breeze ran its fingers
through
the long grass of the thatched
roof eave
They stuck me in the only
chair
while they cooked casaba and
a luckless hen
They asked for one well, three
lanterns and
200 litres of fuel and I said,"Who,
me?"
And the time for planting's
coming soon
and the thought of you comes
on like the feel
of the coming rains
In the town neon flickers in
the ruins
Seven crows swoop past a luscious
moon
If I had wings like those
there'd be no waiting
I'd come panting to your door,
slide like smoke into your
room
All day the mountains rose
behind
the veil of smoke from burning
fields
And road dust dyeing black
skin bronze
and the road rolling like
a rough sea
It's quiet now, just crickets
and
a dog fight somewhere in the
far away
In my heart I hold your photograph
and the thought of you comes
on like the feel
of the coming rains
And the time for planting's
coming soon
and the thought of you comes
on like the feel
of the coming rains
Marco Giunco |
Work | Basket | Music | Words |