Mount Street Snow

Country storm, lost in a city,

A baby girl’s mama, makes herself pretty.

Her man walks the streets with pockets a’ green

Praying his hands will always be clean.

Oh my my, infinite sky.

God’s salting the earth today.

While crystals are falling,

The heavens are bawling,

And the hillside’s ironed by sleigh.

The mayor’s on high guard.

Below is the sand truck,

In the middle an army of white

This brigade’s got no training.

Its order is waning,

As it’s waving its flag in the fight.

Country storm, lost in a city,

Baby girl’s mama, keeps herself busy.

Her man walks the streets with pockets a’ green

Raising his manhood under the trees.

My oh my, in soft blankets lie

Tracks of the west side fervor.

With the cold comes the calm

Of the violent psalm

That commits to a capital murder.

Left with an angel,

The right type of metal,

In the middle of Steuart Hill field.

Where pulled through the weight

Of the wind and a gate,

The revelation of something concealed.

Country storm, lost in a city,

Baby girl’s mama, knee deep in pity.

Her man walks the streets with pockets a’ green

Now he’s just praying his body is seen.

My oh my, watch mama cry

Holding the warmth of her child.

The sun’s going down

And her man’s not been found,

But the storm carries on for a while.

My oh my, oh my oh

No, please don’t tell me so

Can’t pick up the phone

When the soul’s gone home,

Oh my oh.

A country storm never fits in a city.

Where the streets and the sidewalks are already busy.

Where men become boys when the white becomes green.

When the sunshine of daybreak uncovers the scene.