Storm-cloud lips,
Hail-stone teeth.
To be honest with you,
I got a whole heap of cynic brewin’ in me.
Maybe it’s me ‘n this here alcoholic passion,
I ain’t been one for keepin’ myself from indulgin’,
But that don’t mean I ain’t got room for you,
Just the opposite.
What with your storm-cloud lips,
Lightnin’ crick-crackin’ at every tongueflip,
Thunder rollin’ between ’em at every word.
I know you ain’t no advertisement,
but you got my barometric pressure risin’.
I’m doin’ backflips to catch your voice-clips,
’cause there’s life in you,
Life I ain’t seen in so, so-so long.
It’s been a long humid comin’ to here,
Sweat spattered, agony drenched,
But you’re a cool breeze along it all,
‘n that’s just a sign of what’s comin’.
You’re all twistin’ winds,
‘n I’m all weather-vein.
Somethin’, somethin’–
“something wicked this way comes.”
I ain’t ever happy to see a storm cloud pass me by,
‘n I can tell by the grit of you,
You got hail-stone teeth–
you’ll beat ‘n rip me with ’em.
‘n it ain’t good unless you got scars from it.
I want you like sunflowers want daylight,
Stretchin’ ‘n twistin’ for it.
You got storm-cloud lips,
‘n hail-stone teeth,
‘n I’m beggin’, beggin’,
for a good rain.
