deepundergroundpoetry.com
Rain On Me
My well of muse has run dry
And I'm waiting for the rains to come
My head is aching from thought
My heart pounds like a tribal drum
Rainmaking rhythms hum busily
I lift my face to the cloudy sky
For quenching of a parched tongue
I'm thirsty for a new outpouring tonight
And I'm waiting for the rains to come
My head is aching from thought
My heart pounds like a tribal drum
Rainmaking rhythms hum busily
I lift my face to the cloudy sky
For quenching of a parched tongue
I'm thirsty for a new outpouring tonight
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