by Patti Smith. I don't know why I feel this way today. The sky is blue the table is laid. The trees are heavy with yellow fruit. And in their shade children happily play. The pears have fallen to the ground. My child places one in my hand. The sun is warm upon my face. And I dream of a burning land. Mother of famine take this pear. Upon an arrow through the rings of time. This small fruit this golden prayer. May it pass from this hand to thine. If I were rain I'd rain on Somalia. If I were grain for Somalia I'd grow. If I were bread I would rise for Somalia. If I were a river for Somalia I'd flow. All the mothers will dream of thee. All the mothers bless thy empty hand. All the mothers will grieve for thee. All the sorrow a mother can stand. If we were rain we would rain on Somalia. If we were grain for Somalia we'd grow. If we were bread we would rise for Somalia. If we were a river for Somalia we'd flow.