As you drip onto the roof of every house in this rinky dink town, I get the feeling that you are scared. You’re alone, and you want to be happy. I feel your pain, oh precious rain. The sunshine will come soon. You’re not satisfied until that glorious rainbow peeks its head in the middle of the sky. You won’t be rejuvenated until the sun breaks the clouds barrier. But then what will you be Mr. Rain? You will be a lost Saturday. A helpless puddle on the side of the street.

I feel your pain, oh precious rain. The sun will start to heal. Your dreary day will be gone, and no one will ever look back. The kids come out to play, and you are gone once again. Forgotten until the weather man calls for another storm. Nobody likes you Mr. Rain. Nobody wants you around. Things are better when the sun is shinning and you are not to be found.