The Art of Rainmaking

Every day her eyes grow wider to contain the springs that well up inside her. They're threatening to brim over, and it's only October... can't she wait another day? We know she wasn't ready for the earthquake, we were hoping everything would steady itself. She was sixteen the last time she saw the sun, she is not to blame...

And God, she tries, but her grey eyes
close and open up the skies
when she blinks her tears out
-she's missing him again-
and it always seems to rain
now that she thinks about it...

In her dreams he is not gone, and now she wakes up right at dawn to hear the dew out on the lawn. They don't know her name, but they call her rainbird. They don't have quite the words to explain her obvious sadness, it seems so endless. And without reason the heavens open, we were kind of hopin' this would pass... but she carries disaster lightly in both her hands. There were the plans that had been so carefully laid out, but in time she was left without the means to complete them. She was unable to see the ending, and felt quite deserted. Depending on the day, she often turned on all the lights and stayed up half the night, and oh what a sight she was- what a sight! She just couldn't get him off her mind, and it rained for ten days straight.

she's losing her grip
on reality, she's beginning to slip
-the storms grow worse yet-
and now, he haunts her every step
and in her heart there's nothing left
except for the regrets...

She lives on hope she doesn't feel, pretending none of this is real- she says her heart is made of steel, but we know better. She can't fool herself forever... or for very much longer at all. It is almost April, the month of passing, of mourning for us. No one remembers as she does. We are aware of the growing tension in the air and her sorrow. And here, we all believe in tomorrow, in which the rain will sweep her away to a better place, she will see him again at a later date- but for now, she waits...