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• Artiste: BAMBARA
• Titre: Heat Lightning
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Clouds flash up ahead Just heat lightning, he thinks No rain for the flames 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” 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 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 till every coffin’s swimming”