You think all soldiers hate the rain.
I don’t, that much is true.
It’s not the source of my great pain,
My sorrow and my rue.

The sun, the light it lays on me,
That's what I really fear,
And what it lights for me to see
Is hideously clear.

The red sun sets, even in war,
It nestles in the hills,
The stars shine bright in desert nights,
The moon, it glows so still,

Oh how I cherish these calm nights,
But when the sun returns,
Shadows fade and it sheds light,
And crimson rivers churn.

I pray for showers long and loud
To wash away the red.
Where thunder lurks beyond the clouds,
And booms right over head.

Cleanse us, rinse this ruddy sight,
Black skies please open wide,
While we’re pardoned from the light
From lightning bolts, we’ll hide.

You think all war is fought in storms,
To me, that’d be a dream,
So storm clouds could envelop me,
And hide these bloody streams.

Hopefully I'll see the day,
When this great river stops,
But until then, I'll sit and pray,
For nature's mighty mop.