You ever hear something coming for you?
Like the wind rushing around to make way
for the hand of God to come 'round
and give you one good bitch lick
to your ears-corner?
Well that's the first day of rainy season.
When you could stand somewhere so high
That you see the hills surrounding 'Pan
And watch the mists rolling
Off the mounds where Mayan bones are kept.
When you can hear the trees' whispering
Grow to screaming out your name.
When the wind blows at you from side-on
And press you up against a wall
Saying:
Yow, Fam'ly. Which paat yuh think yuh gwein?
Then yuh know the rainy season come.
And yuh know seh it come just for you.
Like the wind rushing around to make way
for the hand of God to come 'round
and give you one good bitch lick
to your ears-corner?
Well that's the first day of rainy season.
When you could stand somewhere so high
That you see the hills surrounding 'Pan
And watch the mists rolling
Off the mounds where Mayan bones are kept.
When you can hear the trees' whispering
Grow to screaming out your name.
When the wind blows at you from side-on
And press you up against a wall
Saying:
Yow, Fam'ly. Which paat yuh think yuh gwein?
Then yuh know the rainy season come.
And yuh know seh it come just for you.
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