THE RAIN WILL COME

When the river has run dry
From the thrust of blind mankind,
A dying baby, a dying mind
Will flood the world with its cry.

He knows the rain still comes.

When the forest has gone bare
By sold souls with fired desire,
A dying man, a gun for hire
Will feed those fires with despair.

He knows the rain still comes.

When the springbuds have burst through
Upon the raindrops line refined,
A newborn baby, a newborn mind
Will bathe the world with hope anew.