There's something in the way her fingers turn the pages so slow
And her toes curl reading Kerouac laying by my window
Beautifully bathing in the moonlight's lavender glow
We thought the same thoughts of the soul
So I set the table pour some wine and put a record on low
Only her favorite, pulling from a list that only I know
But it's killing me because I know how soon I'll be alone
And I don't believe I'm ready for the rain
No I don't believe I'm ready for the rain
There's an empty table naked dishes and the chairs stay cold
So I pour a whiskey and whisper, I miss you more than I'll ever show
But its so sad to see how all good things must someday go
Because I don't believe I'm ready for the rain
There's something in the way her fingers turn the pages so slow
We thought the same thoughts of the soul
