An immense amount of tears dropped from the sky.
Like God is telling us his diappointment in how we're passing life by.
I feel like the rain sometimes when I'm sitting alone.
Listening to the soft pats against my window, while thinking of home.
It seems so lonely to be the teardrops of the skies.
Like the people from our past still crying to say goodbye.
Rain is what I feel like, ignored it seems by all.
No one there to catch me but an umbrella when I fall.
You look out at me seeing only drops.
Reflections of everything in your life that you cannot stop.
I show a face of hidden pain.
Though people know me as simply the rain.
I'm the renewal of life; the nourisment of the land.
The symbol upon which tells that I am God's helping hand.
I remember no memories; tamed like a beast.
But beautiful from the look when your eyes do feast.
You push me away and ignore what I do.
Apparantly you don't see everything I do for you.
I wash away the dirt left untouched.
With gentle hands, it's still just too much.
I shield your tears from those who can't see.
And let you walk through the teardrops that are me.
I do so many things but still you shun me away.
As I fall through the skies to a brand new day.
I bring to life the earth in its dry state.
And make it where a million people hate.
I make a sunny day turn winter cold.
While the days turn to end and times grow old.
I can be in a million different places.
And look past millions of different faces.
Touch the petals of a rose
Yet at the same moment, travel where the wind goes
I cannot be caught but yet I can never be free.
Never able to run wild, always trapped inside me.
I can cry and cry but all I will ever be able to do.
Is hit the ground with a patter,
and slide down your window too.
I am the rain, the truth, the giver of land.
Yet I am the one that needs a helping hand.
Umbrellas are blocks that keep you from me,
Ignoring the vision you don't want to see.
