We Dream of Rain I

We dream of rain in a dry season under the setting sun We harvest bitter grains, Embittered flesh. Under a tyrannical son, we dream of rain in a harsh summer of discontent. We watch the harsh mistress of the empirical sun. The seeding of the plains a White House on desert sands. Where a figure fighting the storms stands in a black dress in a bone-white land. The reapers machine burns on the horizon edge The cold hard weight of a gun. My spirit has fled, my wound had bled We dwell in a madding season in some American empire… Reprise I