The Pouring Rain

February 19, 2010
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So as the sun set down in the west
I had given it my best
That fire with which I had fought
was almost gone, turned to naught

So what was I to do?
So void of clothes and shoes
I walked out into the pouring rain
To sing, sing out loud again

The lamps shone bright
far out into the cold, dark night
Giving me distance to my sight
And illuminating my plight.

So what you say is the point of this?
This dribble, useless stream of mess?
I do not know, lost and so alone
I am going to find my way home.

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