| I used to love to hear the rain come down
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| It used to whisper on my window
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| I’d lie awake and listen, and half asleep I’d murmur
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| «They got to love this rain in Iowa.»
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| I used to welcome every drop of rain
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| It came as manna to my garden
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| And in the sunny morning, I’d walk among the flowers
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| They used to look like they were on parade
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| But now we’re livin' on some sufferin' ground
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| The flowers withered and the grass turned brown
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| And now I’m prayin' when the rain comes down
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| The facts begin to be plain
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| And now we’re lookin' at a desperate year
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| On many faces there are traces of fear
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| Because it’s rainin', and it’s terribly clear
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| Unless I’m goin' insane:
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| There’s something wrong with the rain
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| I hear the thunder on the westerly wind
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| I watch the flickerin' horizon
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| The trees begin to quiver; |
| the sky begins to darken;
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| The rain is fallin' on the dusty ground
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| I used to love a rainy afternoon
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| The dogs and I would get so lazy
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| A gentle rain was fallin', we’d close our eyes and listen
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| I used to love it when it felt that way
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| But now we’re livin' on some sufferin' ground
|
| The flowers withered and the grass turned brown
|
| And now I’m prayin' when the rain comes down
|
| The facts begin to be plain
|
| And now we’re lookin' at a desperate year
|
| On many faces there are traces of fear
|
| Because it’s rainin', and it’s terribly clear
|
| Unless I’m goin' insane:
|
| There’s something wrong with the rain
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| There’s something wrong with the rain
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| There’s something wrong with the rain! |