Rain on the weatherman’s shoes
Hot Humble pie, come to dinner
The networks that carry the news
Hold opposing views of the winner
And the years go by
Like clouds in the sky
And no one notices the tears that you cry
The Flood gates open
The coping skills fly
And the experts accuse the beginner
A giant sized diamond shaped bruise
The veil in the room, getting thinner
Myriad of yellows and blues
A pistol or noose for the winner
And the years go by…
Rain on a rusty tin roof
Water and bread, come to dinner
Blessed be the roof overhead
There’s no better truth for the sinner
And the years go by…