Žodžiai dainai: Diane Cluck. God Made It Rain.

God made it rain so I'd run to the bus stop
God knew otherwise I'd be late.
I grab the umbrella torn from a pawnshop,
drop all my keys down a grate, but
I have to give up and keep running.
I choke on my cough drop,
the neighbors dog's launching itself at the gate.
Barking, tossing itself like a ship onto rocks,
a creature that will not resign to it's fate.

I say "Gimme five!" to my neighbor, a lefty,
who thought I meant money and handed me some.
I gave it back to my four fingered lefty,
he slaps me five by adding the thumb from his right hand.
He says, "Diane...

Why don't you quit that job that you've got?
If you always run late, you must hate it.
You know if I were a woman I'd get me knocked up
so I could sit home and look out at the snow."

We watch the rain make old snow into glass,
snow into glass like the sun does to sand,
He says "Do you want to?"
and I say, "I guess."
He shivers under my five fingered hand.

My spent neighbor leaves our slight of hand alley
and I am alone until something gets thrown at me.
Blood on my cheek, and the laughter of children
the sting of a snowball embedded with stone.

I see neighborhood mothers wig out from their windows
watching their archangels arch in the snow.
In sub zero temperatures, rigid and rosy,
kids stagger by with a frost bitten glow.

God made it rain so I'd run to the bus stop
God knew otherwise I'd stay home.
Calling in sick is no final solution,
hiding in bed and unplugging the phone.
Sometimes you must work until you give out,
sometimes you must work until all work is done.
Look at the way the rain clears a path for the sky to conceive an immaculate son(sun).