Rains Rust

Copyright 2012, Guy Smith and Cheryl Smith, All Rights Reserved

 

I might feel the pain, if I wasn’t so damn tired
But I spent the whole night long dodging enemy fire
I know you’re home tonight babe, wish I was there with you
But my tour in hell, it ain’t nearly through

Over here, the sky rains rust

Called in the gun trucks to clean out a rat nest
Yeah we leveled it to the ground, there wasn’t nothin’ left
Had to clean out the mess, it was an evil pile
Stacking bodies of combatants, women and a child
Keep our boy next to you mama, keep him safe
‘Cuz I swear I saw his ghost in that dead child’s face

The children here, their sky rains rust

I’ve grown numb to the screams and moans
Even in this band of brothers, I feel so all alone
It takes a hard man to fight this war
If you weren’t hard when you landed here, you will be if you get home

Tripped an I-E-D today, and I just walked away
Didn’t catch a single piece of the burning flack
Tell Rose that Jimmy wasn’t so lucky this time
We poured him into a body bag, in a week she’ll get him back

Today Jimmy’s sky rained rust

Lost my photo of you in an enemy raid
Fading memories of us almost keep me sane
Dance through oil field fires, choke on the dust
Over here the skies are always raining rust

This whole battle field is nothing but rust
This damn little war has turned the whole world to rust
I can feel my soul slowly grinding down to rust
Yeah, the skies over here, the skies rain rust


This is the first song I co-wrote with my wife.

When the hook fell into our lap, we heard two entirely different songs. She figured it would end-up being a gushy love song. I heard a stripped down, alcohol fueled, post-apocalyptic broken heart song.

What we got was a song to remind us that soldiers always have it rough.

Funny how songwriting works sometimes. Songs are often written around a good hook. But hooks take different people in different directions. I bet Lennon and McCartney had that occur more than once, and they turned out a couple of fine ditties.


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