• Rain pours down the limestone sludge trim of my window
    I watch the little people walking far below
    As the grey permeates the skies and the streets
    A rhythm of pitter patter and sluggish heartbeats
    I glance up at the hiding sun who won’t smile for me
    I stare out at the oppressive city-sea
    Mama Nature’s a industrialite, so industrial-like
    Each quiet thought resounds like a backed up mike
    Days like this make me wish the alarm never sounded
    The indestructible analog on which I pounded
    The peppy serenade of synths and smiles
    This morning the chanteuse’s voice doesn’t beguile
    Hot tea just burns the chill of an uncaring day
    No one really has nothing much to say
    Suburbia disturbia is what they’re calling it now
    There goes the rattlin’ of another snow plow
    But no wind is gonna freeze this resolve of mine
    There ain’t no place in my heart where the sun don’t shine
    No gray will wipe out the symphony in my soul
    Dancing to the day’s rhythm like it’s rock and roll
    I could sit and pity the waste of a day
    But rain won’t ever make my spirit fray
    ~Because those who say the only fun's in the sun have clearly never danced in the rain~