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It's hot and it's humid but the rain won't fall |
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Thunder cracks but the rain is stuck |
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And the wind blows cool |
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And wet |
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And smells like the flu |
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And rests a cool hand on your forehead |
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A comfort instead of a cure |
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And the I-280 on-ramp lights turn on |
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And I can feel the speed building |
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Denial is what you bought |
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So you'll never be caught |
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The storm just hangs like it's dumb |
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Unable or unwilling |
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A little girl with a white rosary |
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Calling to heaven to take her away |
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From the trap that life turned out to be |
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And from the trap she only wanted Jesus to see |
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'Cause you're damned by the things you don't see |
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A touch that vanity undermines |
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A strength lost in the flicker of disbelief |
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A poem that can't contain its awful rhymes |
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In shadow like a thief |
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And now I walk careful |
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And quiet |
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Wherever I go |
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The secret business of a spy |
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So no one will ever see or know |
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A little girl with a white rosary |
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Calling to heaven to take her away |
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From the trap that life turned out to be |
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From the trap she only wanted Jesus to see |
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She was damned by the things she couldn't see |
