Signs of Weather
The bottom of the ninth
in cold clarity
slow as a migraine swells
Running down your clock
you give it another shot
but you're too busy someone else
Feels like running on feet of clay
I'm closer to the ground every day
The morning after
the night before
careful caution between
Visions of black and white
the home I'm homesick for
blurred like motel TV
Feels like running on feet of clay
I'm closer to the ground every day
Signs of weather
repent in December
try to detatch for a spell
But the hours late
there's something I'll never know
behind those deep and dusky wells
Feels like running on feet of clay
I'm closer to the ground every day
Writer/s: John Calvin Abney
