Talking to the Rain

Four walls of carved unpaved stone

An empty room I call a home

Tonight, I'll walk the streets again

And I'll be talking to the rain

I heard a letter from a friend

And I've no messages to send

As only stray and silent painting

And occasional talking to the rain

Catch the south way every morning

See the wind and smile

Tiny papers at the joke strips

Eyes as cold as time

Never seen a friendly face

See that girl across the way

I tried to speak to her today

Her face moved up in angry shame

It’s better talking to the rain

Four walls of carved unpaved stone

An empty room I call a home

Tonight, I'll walk the streets again

And I'll be talking to the rain

And I'll be talking to the rain

And I'll be talking to the rain...