The sky a misty and gray.
The window sill my head does lay,
Contemplating the days before,
when the sun's dry heat singed my to the core,
When I'd run quickly off the sand that was hot and dry,
Now I'd be rushing just to get inside.
I look up now to the sky misty and gray,
wishing I could get away,
to a place where depression didn't hang in the clouds,
and rain like a fit of tears was not pouring down.
I would dream of the day,
Rain would just wash me away.