One, two, three, four.
Hard rain coming down on me
Trying to start a fire on the muddy banks
Of the Mississippi, in the rain
Baby life is strange
Now he reaches for a quarter
And he stands in the corner
And he screams out for some change.
And nobody looks, but everybody sees
And everybody feels the shame.
And the rain rolls over,
And the dog rolls over,
And he rolls his hands to the sky.
And the nuns in numbers knock their nails in
Like a blackbird in a blackberry pie.
Says, 'Son, it happens every day.
We call it running from the rain.'
Well, it's a rain of thunder,
It's a rain of fear,
It's a busted-open bottle of Rainier beer,
It reaches from the sky
Like a blackbird in a blackberry pie, that's why
And everybody is runnin'
And umbrellas are poppin'
And reflections take over the streets
And the blood is free now
And it flows to the sea now
And the man says, 'I'll see him again.'
Said, 'Son, it happens every day.
We call it running from the rain.'
Well, she turned her back
As he spackles the crack
And the pain just peals away.
And she thought she knew him
But an Autumn leaf blew in
And it blew what she knew of him away.
And she's countin' numbers
But she lost the light
So now she thaws out cubed steak
With a red flashlight
Heads turning like a doorknob,
Eyes burning like a camp log,
What do you think of that?
Said, 'Son, it happens every day.
We call it running from the rain.'
She's gone for good,
You should know by now.
She ain't coming back anyhow.
And a love to her
Is a love that's thrown away

INVIA LE CORREZIONI