She said,
in her favorite chair,
look at all the land out there.
A homie wine in her hand,
she don't go for the fancy brands.
Another day's work is done,
another evening soon to come.
Silver clouds in an angry sky,
she drains her glass.
Looks like it's gonna rain tonight.
She's riding on a dusty track,
thinks she should be heading back.
Two
little hours in the day,
too many bills still to pay.
One man against the earth,
one dream left in the dirt.
Pulls his hat down against the sun,
he saddles up.
Looks like it's gonna rain tonight.
Running down an alleyway,
he finds an empty doorway.
He crouched down against the wind,
holds his shoestring under his chin.
Thinks about him on the farm,
pulls his sleeve up his tortured arm.
Lights a match,
heats a dirty spoon till the needle fills.
Looks like it's gonna rain,
I think it's gonna rain.