It’s raining and the air is cold, the skies are dark and gray
There’s not a speck of sunshine on this January day
And not a smile or cheerful word is spoken or displayed
Sometimes the world is like that, or at least it seems that way
It’s raining, and the gutters rattle with a heavy load
They shake each time the lightning flashes and thunder explodes
And water fills the dirty holes there hidden in the road
Sometimes the times are like that, and you never seem to know
It’s raining on the battlegrounds and in the fields and streams
In oil-slicked puddles the green world is turning submarine
And only on a lonely hill can you survey the scene
Sometimes the future’s like that, or at least that’s how it seems
It’s raining and the sewer drains are filled up to the brim
There’s not much sense in traveling out simply on a whim
And those who venture out are bound to be soaked to the skin
Sometimes the one who doesn’t take the field is he who wins
It’s raining and some things the rain won’t quickly wash away
There’s bones and shells of ancient conflicts buried in this clay
And in the sandy bosom of the earth the dead will stay
Sometimes the cost is higher than the price you’d like to pay
It’s raining and the clouds above are filled up with the stuff
There’s stormy days still coming, and it’s likely to get rough
And those who wish it wasn’t so may find the going tough
Sometimes the weather doesn’t care when you have had enough.
09 JAN 2004
