From the recording My Collectibles
A song about our internal voice that usually knows what we should (or shouldn't) do, whether we listen to it (or not).
Lyrics
Weatherman
He’s got ears for the wind, bones for the rain.
He can feel a storm coming like the rails feel the train.
Wish I’d listened when he warned of a hot spell,
might have saved myself a season in hell.
Weatherman, my Weatherman.
He’s got eyes for the skies, he’s in tune with the moon.
He’s got a nose for every ill wind that blows.
Wish I’d listened when he warned of flood and thunder,
might have saved myself before my third time under.
Weatherman.
Forecaster of Disaster.
My Weatherman.
He’s been in the eye of the hurricane, tortured by the tempest,
soaked his skin with summer rain, thirsted in the desert.
He whispers, “Girl will you ever learn, and listen to what I tell ya?
It’s raining cats and dogs and there you go, with no umbrella.”
Weatherman. My Weatherman.
Whether this, or whether that…
My Weatherman.
MY COLLECTIBLES
© Sharon Lucy Nauss-Hughes