You perch on a beam of old pine
The clouds turn a heavy dark wine
You watch as the sky starts to break
The cedar begins now to shake
Listen to the wooden porch beat
Feel the rhythm under your feet
Thunder rolls a low heavy sound
While the rain hits the thirsty ground
The wind blows a cold salty spray
The summer heat washes away
You blink with a wide golden stare
Sensing a chill in the air
The nails in the floorboards all moan
You wait in the midnight alone
The gutters are rushing like streams
Cutting through all of your schemes
Listen to the wooden porch beat
Feel the rhythm under your feet
Thunder rolls a low heavy sound
While the rain hits the thirsty ground
A taxi man knows every street
Where the asphalt and riverbeds meet
He tells you the storm is a sign
That the stars and the weather align
The flashing white light hits the hill
The world for a second stands still
You tighten your grip on the rail
Watching the gray curtains veil
Listen to the wooden porch beat
Feel the rhythm under your feet
Thunder rolls a low heavy sound
While the rain hits the thirsty ground
Just a bird on a piece of pine.
Everything is doing fine. Keep watching.
Keep watching.
