The Rain Falls Over Inchon

from by Jon Hughes

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lyrics

I wake in panic with sounds of my own making;
Look round for movement–the funeral bells still ringing.

Feel through the darkness the stiffness slowly easing.
I hear, in clearing, I hear my mother crying.

Sun fell and Lansing was cold
And reminded of the past I was anxious to go
Where I would be washed of the stains of the
Man you have known.

A glass of water–I douse the fire inside me.
Women who loved me–their names come soft and slowly.
Headlights from motorbikes, they stretch across the ceiling;
And all is ending, and the rain falls over Inchon.

1954,
You were standing over me in that apron you wore–
Generous eyes that I never had
Noticed before.

I see myself–hotel mirror wall–
I'm waist-deep, mired in the sheets, squat-small;
The ridges below–I'm above them when I hear
Farewells imparted and done,
And standing over you is your prodigal son;
Apologies and good-bye songs that never were sung,
And standing over you is your prodigal son.
Standing over you is your prodigal son...

credits

from Roger White, released September 28, 2012

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about

Jon Hughes Ireland

American songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, Jon Hughes, has been based in Ireland since 2005. He has shared a stage with Damien Jurado, She Keeps Bees, and the legendary singer-songwriter, Buddy Mondlock.

Hughes' latest work, a collection of songs entitled "Where I Sleep at Your Door" is set to be released in March 2015.
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