It never rains in Georgia
Though my cloudy head is gray
And even in November suns
It thunders in the fray
Of my peachy state of mind
And the beaches I convey
Behind hurricane frustrations
As my calm trees start to sway

In the coastal winds of longing
For my tempests kept at bay
Such deluges would be cleansing
A most vehement display
Of my angriest storm surges
That could blow this world away
But it never rains in Georgia
And I'm keeping it that way