BUT THE DROUGHT IS OVER...
Slowly crawlin' across the floor
Comes a shadow through the window
From the house next door
And the dust specks dancing
In the last of the light
One more evening passing
She walked on tiptoes
On a gravel bar
Wet skin pale as the evening star
The North Platte winding like a silver eel
Hands like rain on August fields
Hands like rain
Falling soft
To ease the drought inside
As memory fades
Not much remains
But hands like rain
Now I stand on stiff legs
And I clutch the cane
And I search the sky for a sign of rain
As if it matters
As if it makes a damn
Just an old man's habit
Down the street
The schoolboys play
Dime novel heroes from another day
Who now are nothing more than faceless names
And a nameless face with hands like rain
We'd run by night
And we'd hide by day
So the papers used to say
On stolen horses and borrowed time
Dancing girls and brandy wine
I can hear them calling
They're calling me
I can here them calling
But I still can't see
Life and legend are an awkward pair
And there ain't much magic anywhere
Except in moments we can't often steal
Hands like rain on August fields
Hands like rain
Falling soft
To ease the drought inside
As memory fades
Not much remains
But hands like rain
HANDS LIKE RAIN
from James McMurtry's 1992 Candyland CD
Friday, August 05, 2011
IT HASN'T RAINED AROUND HERE FOR A LONG LONG TIME
Posted by bulletholes at 6:58 AM
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2 comments:
You Texans are lucky people. I don't mind a bit of rain now & again, but Holland isn't called the Low Lands for nothing. Hey Steve! Good to hear about the house too.
Hi Martijn! Send yus some rain (and some money too)!
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