And thunder 
on a Sunday;
did he know 
where rain is,
is home?

I don't mind 
a torrent,
a pour down;
blasts from heaven;
good try,
I still don't feel alive...

Don't you see?
a pedal, a drop 
is contagious 
and I don't know 
one end was god 
and another just
my head;
I can be strong 
and careless 
and drive for the night-
beat, beat
your warm and cuddly 
inside,
let me in;
I want to live 
in quiet night
and suckle plaid,
white picket fences
and my perfect love
on the other side 
of my bed;

His breathing 
to the rain,
beat, beat...

Please make me whole,
and hear the pour
in someone's arms.