I have walked thru the rain to get to where I’m going,
Trudging thru the waters, yet never really knowing.
What it is I am in search of, what I need to be set free.

My umbrella no longer stopping the rain from finding me,
seems it’s rather tattered too, been abused like me, you see.
I gave up seeking shelter back in nineteen eighty-three

Though some times when I look back, at how warm a home can be.
Makes me wish that I had kept mine, maybe followed that destiny.
But I fear not the path I’ve chosen, nor the place that it’s led me.

And I am now in the December, of my life upon this earth.
Maybe not lived to the fullest, but I’ve had my livings worth.
When I leave, I know no one will be mourning my de-birth.

I leave with quite good conscience, I’ve done harm to not a one,
I’m certain where I’m going, is the place from where I’ve come.
I’ll be back in January as surely as shines the sun.