"Stay in the shadows of my [bad word] friend / You're a tree-ripened girl, still green, seen on billboards / You're a baby, not in age, but ideas / Toss and turn my friend to the end of the storm, underneath your sleeping eyelids.
 [bad word] Rain, your storm is just a game / But it's strange to be yesterday's thunder.

You're the sun reflected in the sand of a faraway land / You're a circus performer, magnificently twirling / The acrobat inside you is leisurely suspended, using no net / Destiny is below with its casual arithmetic, waiting.
 [bad word] Rain...

When the vines of Time, squared, electrify your soft hair / And four white horses [bad word] red eyes pull your casket away / Only a thimbleful of people will understand / And as the applause dies down, I'll remember you the way we are today.
 [bad word] Rain..."