In my daily quarrels with myself
I'm reminded of the promised rain
A great gray cloud approaching
Hovering trying to make up its mind
To restrain its urge to fall
Or do what it's come to do
And mean it after all
Did you know they've proven
Half of the soul doesn't even know
There is another half
Which hovers over its
Anxious incomprehension
And tries to calm its fears
If it would only listen
And let it rain or not
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