PATCHED UMBRELLA, SCATTERED BROOM
Watching these people
Laying the future
On a keg of kerosene This is a trip I walk with fear
When the rain flogs painfully
Through the faded, patched umbrella... Oh! The nay-tion streets are dirty
Where is the broom
To sweep out the sorrow of the nay-tion I weep! They've came by, holding the umbr