It started raining at eleven thirty-three
then the air was cold and damp
the flowers watered by puddles pouring
yesterday is slides away
The ride through town is awful eerie
I sit in silence as the radio croons
out the window something is missing
and in their faces I read the news
don't look now but the clouds are open
and its coming down, it's coming down
oh this love is so soft-spoken
to be heard, you've got to scream it out
and if I'm not there when you wake
its only 'cause I followed you home
don't look now but the clouds are open
and its coming down, it's coming down
old photographs and a box of Kleenex
we are camped out on the lawn
prayers for sun that isn't coming
are you here or do I wish that I'm not
If this rain could wash away
the pain from those that I love
and take this thread that holds us together
we could take the world and sew it up

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