Heat Lightning - Bambara

Clouds flash up ahead

«Just heat lightning,» he thinks

No rain for the flames

Yeah

Death rides at night in a copper Pinto

Candy in the glove box where a revolver would go

His bones are trapped in greasy fat and he’s

Shaking as he laughs at

Jokes about the weather and news from the fire at the mill

Letting parched mosquitoes drink their fill

Between his knuckles on the wheel while he

Laughs like baby pigs squeal

Pale eyes, huge, behind thick glasses

Speeding through lights, turning green as he passes

Says, «Weathermen are worse than those tarot card teens

They can’t explain every little thing

I don’t care what they say, ain’t gonna rain

Fires aren’t made just to be tamed»

Yeah

Death pulls off to piss in a patch of dry weeds

Aiming at every lightning bug he sees

Hears a creature crying from a ditch

You know death just can’t resist it

He looks at all the models on the billboards going by

Thinking of X’s in their eyes

He smiles at his wandering mind while he’s

Glowing in the moonlight

The radio turns to static

He sticks his hand out the window

And winces at the first drops of rain, yeah

Huh

Says, «Weathermen are worse than those palm reading freaks

They can’t explain every little thing

I don’t care what they say about the rain

It’s not stopping in a day, ain’t no way

It’s not gonna end 'til every coffin’s swimming»