19th Century Lane

Perhaps the willow trees
The swing softly in the breeze,
Long for another day for rain to come,
As the thunder bangs its drum.

Although the day has come,
For rain to come again some other day,
The rain ignore ones wishes,
For it to bother one some other day.

Rain, though you don't go away,
It feels as if you're not here.
And yet you are everywhere
At once.

Although the day has come,
For rain to come again some other day,
The rain ignore ones wishes,
For it to bother one some other day.

Digging in the dirt,
Are young with torn skirts.
Who grow up to become bar flirts,
Suiting strange men.

Only those who have self-respect, go on,
To leave the Xerox machine on.
Down the road from Time Mountain,
Down the road from 19th century lain.