The Storm

can't you hear your daughter weeping too afraid to go outside that door i hope she sees her father sleeping i step into the summer rain, and i try to make a basket with the front of my t-shirt and bring all those raindrops back inside to her but pretty soon she'll be out drinking not ashamed of your lies anymore i'm sitting in my room just thinking how i wish she were a coin that i could slip into my pocket and feel her with my finger, and keep her from the harshness of the vast approaching storm