Looks like rain, the old girl said,
As the sky broke stars and bled,
And the clouds all turned black with the swell;
The dingy streets were dim and grey,
The shadow people drained away,
And it seemed as though the town was going to hell.
Looks like rain, the people cried,
As the shop fronts closed and died
And the best days ground abruptly to a halt;
The fairground rides fell still,
And the view from up the hill
Was of streetlights suffocating in a vault.
Looks like rain, I wryly thought,
Just before the first onslaught
Of machinery oiled and primed for tearing down;
With the clanking chains and drilling
Someone made a quick-fire killing
By ripping out the heart from this old town.
Looks like rain, you sweetest child,
I know I muttered as I smiled,
And the oil-paint textures watered in your eyes;
Our own history set to burning
As the wheels they kept on turning,
In the hallowed name of progress I surmise.