It's raining on Sunday
it's pouring down my face.
It's heavy now and harder still
It's pouring down and flooding hills.
I heard my name called in the wind
but you're not there, you won't call me again.
The wind is screaming through the trees
the air is filling up with leaves.
Maybe I'll go outside and I'll drink the rain
maybe the fallen clouds will ease my pain.
I can't go on like this, living in thirst.
It's just like before but now I'm the one who's hurt.
I've been all over town
the sky is blackened up with clouds.
I don't know which way to go.
The flood has washed away my home.
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