This first song is rich in harmonies as a sad and sweet beauty serenades us while we wear formal attire.

 

This second song sings the rising rage of a modern country man. Wow.

And it rained a sickness.
And it rained a fear.
And it rained an odor.
And it rained a murder.
And it rained pale eggs of the beast.

Rain fell on the towns and the fields.
It fell on the tractor sheds and the labyrinth of sloughs.
Rain fell on toadstools and ferns and bridges.
It fell on the head of John Paul Ziller.

Rain poured for days, unceasing.
Flooding occurred.
The wells filled with reptiles.
The basements filled with fossils.
Mossy haired lunatics roamed the dripping peninsulas.
Moisture gleamed on the beak of the Raven.

Ancient shamans,
rained from their homes in dead tree trunks,
clacked their clamshell teeth
in the drowned doorways of forests.
Rain hissed on the Freeway.
It hissed at the prows of fishing boats.
It ate the old warpaths,
spilled the huckleberries,
ran in the ditches.
Soaking.
Spreading.
Penetrating.

And it rained an omen.
And it rained a poison.
And it rained a pigment.

And it rained a seizure.
And it rained a seizure.
And it rained a seizure.

And it rained
a seizure.

A passage from “Another Roadside Attraction”
by the immortal Tom Robbins.