A song about the ecological fate that awaits us unless we change course. I based it on the dustbowl era, which was a prime example of a man-made disaster.

Lyrics

The Rain Ain’t Comin’ Back

Lookin’ out, all I can see
Dry fields an’ a mystery
Crops an’ payments overdue
Forgive my debts an’ I’ll forgive you
You break your back, your fingernails
The wind laughs down the empty rails
Only two things givin’ me hope
Train tracks an’ just enough rope

An’ the rain, it ain’t comin’ back
The rain ain’t comin’ back
An’ my sister, she may as well burn the shack
‘cause the rain ain’t comin’ back

I’m the kind of man got no philosophy
But I know dirt an’ dirt knows me
If only dust was worth its weight
We’d be so rich we’d suffocate
Good Book said there’s gonna be a flood
‘Til every field is bones and mud
But that may take another year
An’ you still can’t raise a spit ‘round here

‘cause the rain, it ain’t comin’ back…

Clouds roll by like galleons
Trains, dreams an’ wild stallions
Above our broken bones
Suffering and stones
The hunger of the soil
The drought and the fall
The miracle of the bread
The crumbs an’ the threads
The desolate plain
The desolate plain
The desolate plain
Our saviour the rain

You see the hawk, hear the crows
Their crops are full but nothing grows
Just dry blood and a broken line
On the barren land they left behind
Where only buried crosses bloom
To mark their passing and our doom
For we are the children of this land
Cursed to never understand

An’ the rain, it ain’t comin’ back

© The Rain Ain’t Comin’ Back; music by Tom Fairnie; words by Tom Fairnie & Bob Shields May 2022