| It was as if the bay had woken up
|
| And walked across the city
|
| I suppose the lightning was quite striking
|
| But I was too damn cold
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| To think of it as pretty
|
| And now it seems like
|
| The twelve won’t come at all
|
| As the rain hits, horizontally
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| The glass bus-shelter wall
|
| Now my calves are slowly soaking
|
| As I cower from the rain
|
| And the bullshit this day’s thrown me
|
| Well it sticks to me again
|
| So with traffic at a standstill
|
| And with hope my driving force
|
| Watch me walk into the water
|
| Hear me shouting myself hoarse
|
| And as the rain came down I danced
|
| Over the oily river where the road had been
|
| As though I’d probably missed my chance
|
| I had to tell you that we hadn’t covered everything
|
| The foxes in the fig-trees
|
| They see the city upside-down
|
| And they wrap their wings and settle in
|
| As the weather goes to town
|
| Now if I could be a catchment
|
| For whatever comes to pass
|
| I’d be pouring possibilities
|
| In this half-empty glass
|
| And as the rain came down I danced
|
| Over the oily river where the road had been
|
| And though I’d probably missed my chance
|
| I had to tell you that we hadn’t covered everything
|
| And when the storm had passed I stood
|
| In the clear dry shadow where your car had been
|
| And though the forecast wasn’t good
|
| Fear is a feeling that will never cover everything
|
| Fear is a feeling that will never cover everything |