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Rain, rain , rain |
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A thousand tiny drops upon the pane |
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Marching in their millions toward the drain |
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And whose to say those drops are all the same? |
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Against the shutters, splash and down they go |
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Into the Gutters, or to rivers flow |
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Rain, rainy day |
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On rooftops or on treetops either way |
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The curbsides and the creek beds know the way |
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To turn these drops to streams that flow away |
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To fill the rivers, bound by banks and shores |
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Or to the sewer, down the gutter's course |
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Drawn by weeds in stagnant pools of mud |
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Or tossed in torrents, agents of the flood |
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To lay to rest in placid lake |
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Or raging for a dam to break |
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Their destiny, eventually, the sea... |
