The Rain Lyrics

[Lyric and Information Index]

 

 

Music - Lē Isaac Weaver
Words - Lē Isaac Weaver
Performed, mixed and recorded by Lē Isaac Weaver

Lyrics

 

I heard the rain was coming across the field to our door.
I saw the clouds had gathered. I tasted dirt the winds had borne.

I looked and saw the way you, you touched her shoulder, met her eyes.
I didn't want to turn away, but tears of shame they stung my eyes.

This pain is raining down.
These lies are suffocating me.
This heartless ending game,
Makes worthless the love we fought to embrace.
Makes worthless the love I fought to create.

Now you say you're leaving, sounds like you're someone unknown.
I see her taste has changed you. You look right through me, through our home.

Take all the dreams I gave you. Take all the truth I begged you for.
Take all this pain and anger. Take thirteen years, I'll give you nothing more.

This pain is raining down.
These lies are suffocating me.
This heartless ending game,
Makes worthless the love we fought to embrace.
Makes worthless the love I fought to create .

I saw the rain was coming across the fields to our door.
I saw the clouds had gathered, and I, I tasted dirt the winds had borne.
I tasted dirt the winds had borne...

 

So what does it mean?

 

It's hard for us to leave.

People my age grew up in a world where couples stayed together. For life. There is for many of us, a lot of shame associated with quitting a relationship. But at the same time, sane people are usually unwilling to stay in painful or unhelpful relationships unless there is some extremely compelling reason.

Not too long ago there was an extremely compelling reason. Women's husbands legally owned them, and it was almost impossibly difficult for a woman to survive on her own. So women spent many, many generations sucking it up, shutting up, and just living through bad relationships. It wasn't that long ago this way of living ended for most of us. Might seem like forever to you, but this is probably how most women in the world are still working things right now. For those of us in western progressive culture, it was only a couple generations ago that the whole thing changed.

Without the survival issue and the economic imperative keeping couples together, the only thing left is the shame. But anymore shame is not enough either, so most people just don't stay together unless the relationship is a good one. Good relationships, if my experience is any indication, are fairly rare.

So we feel like we are supposed to stay in our relationship, but we are unwilling to tollerate a relationship that is not working very well for us. How to end something that we were taught is not supposed to be ended?

Passive agressively.

That's what most people settle on. They leave withou leaving. They disassociate themselves from the relationship. They become absent in thought, word or deed. They get drawn deeply into work their spouse does not share and claim things have to be that way. They distance themselves by speaking unkindly or abusively to the other person. They go out and have an affair, which moves the focus of their loving and tender attention elsewhere.

Basically they say, "I'm not going to leave you, but I'm not really going to be with you in a loving way either."

As the partner who is being left (and don't get me wrong, we are probably doing our own version of this at the same time), we feel the loss of the loving and tender attention. But we drag our feet, and don't make an issue of it, because we are just as shamed by the thought that the relationship might end.

Here's the deal. Relationships begin and end these days. It's rare that one lasts for life. Maybe we should start learning how to end them. Isn't it better to speak the truth and honor the goodness and beauty someone brought into our lives than it is to passive agressively hurt them until they leave?

 

[Lyric and Information Index]

 

All text, images and music on this site are copyrighted material. Please do not make copies or distribute any of it without first contacting me for permission.