Sure Baby, Mañana. It Was

And The Stars Were Icicles Of Mockery

I'm Right There, Swimming The River Of Hardships But I Know How To Swim.

Something That You Feel Will Find Its Own Form.

And What Does The Rain Say At Night In A Small Town, What Does The Rain Have To Say? Who Walks Beneath Dripping Melancholy Branches Listening To The Rain? Who Is There In The Rain’s Million-needled Blurring Splash, Listening To The Grave Music Of The Rain At Night, September Rain, September Rain, So Dark And Soft? Who Is There Listening To Steady Level Roaring Rain All Around, Brooding And Listening And Waiting, In The Rain-washed, Rain-twinkled Dark Of Night?

My Witness Is The Empty Sky.