Drawing Down The Rain Songtext / Lyric

I can hear them ranting.

Like a choir of angels, those cunts.



Not singing nor dancing here;

All eyes down for the casting.

Spell trough scraped dry.



Practising our sincerest sorrows;

All full faced to the grind of stone.






The drag of that inert through toil of chained wrought sinew.

Ragged faces turned up to the rain.

Staring down; drawing down the rain.

Staring down; drawing down the rain.

Drawing down the rain.

Drawing down.



All our ears are open / all our eyes are smiling

Gracelessly receiving empty threats of heaven.



As grist to and from these dark Satanic mills.

A barren wasteland dreamt through streets of prescription mist.

There is no attenuating this.

No attenuating this.



Holes in the heart of this city.

Holes.



Drawing down the rain.



Heaven calling; calling through sewer-gratings.