The flies have quit their buzzing
|
Even Bear has stopped his barking
|
They all sense something brewing
|
Up the James and headed this way
|
|
Bobby sips his morning coffee
|
Says `Have you finished with the funnies
|
Looks like a storm's coming honey
|
Guess we'll have to stay in bed today'
|
|
I've heard that into every life
|
A little of it must fall
|
If there's any truth to the saying,
|
Lord, let it be a southern rain
|
|
Marie was born in Macon, Georgia
|
She met a west coast lawyer
|
He plucked that sweet magnolia
|
And carried her to the hills of West L.A.
|
|
She says `I never thought I'd tire of a dollar
|
But this life has grown so hollow
|
Every night there's lipstick on his collar
|
And every morning I wash it away'
|
|
She heard that into every life
|
A little of it must fall
|
So she spends her evenings praying
|
For a little of that southern rain
|
|
Cars alive on city streets
|
Of sparkling black water
|
Like waves beneath my window
|
Never break just roll away
|
Tonight, this rain will be my lullaby
|
These cars, my dreams
|
To carry me home to stay
|
|
The wipers beat a rhythm
|
Truck spray obscures my vision
|
But I'm closing in on my destination
|
Two more hours and I'll be at your door
|
|
And it will never cease to amaze me
|
How a little rain can drive folks crazy
|
When I'd trade all my blue skies gladly
|
For your blue eyes, crooked smile
|
And a steady downpour
|
|
I've heard that into every life
|
A little of it must fall,
|
But you'll never catch me complaining
|
About too much of that southern rain
|
|
-----------------
|
Southern Rain
|
| Cowboy Junkies |
