Hard rain come by end of day,
come and wash my pain away,
make all clean, with shine anew,
before all ends, and love is through.
This love that just wants
it's one fair chance,
free and clear
and unencumbered.
If this is how, it can not be,
then help me wash my hand,
removed the fowl stench
of this reprehensible injustice.
Righteous does not always win,
though it should always in the end,
but sometimes evil reigns supreme
in this world of broken dreams.
Let me be the dream repairman,
so I might use these tools,
placed her in my hands,
by the big man with the plan,
for his plan seemed to be
you and me, til we lost our way.
