Here comes the rain,
Dripping through the trees,
Here comes the rain,
Soaking you and me.
I thought it was meant to be summer,
No sunshine to be found,
I thought it was meant to be summer,
Just water, falling to the ground.
Maybe the hot weather will come back,
Hopefully some day,
Maybe the hot weather will come back,
But for now this rain is here to stay.
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Lines ever more unclear, Not sure I'm even here...
There is an old tree That stands on the lawn. Its branches are bare And its bark is torn. The blossoming violets In a circle quite small. They circle the tree, The tree that's so tall.
I look around me And everything's green. Spring is coming. Yellow flowers and Pink almond trees. Here in Sicily Winter leave us early.
Golden hued leaves fall graciously to the ground. All the little squirrels stop and turn transfixed to the sound. Pollen lost from the legs of bees coat the glistening floor.
Lashing down in torrents, Fierce in its rage, Waning at its edges, Harsh at every stage. Pouring down about us, Angry as it falls, Making hissing, snapping sounds, Animal-like calls.
Step out of the door, The cold chill sends ice through my spine. The warm colours tells me autumn has arrived. A season of paradoxes.
There's nothing like, A real good storm. Don't know where it's going, Don't know where it's from. The calm before the hit, The eerie silence after it.
In a spiral of gold, ruby, and copper leaves tumble from the gnarled branches. A magnificent carpet of colours line the woodland paths. Cool winds carry the fiery foliage softly through the icy air.
Grey day Black night Sun and Moon Hide out of sight. Clouds dominate Cover stars Sulking giants Leaving scars. But they are sad They cry rain To fill rivers and lakes and oceans Again.
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