Drop, drop; here it comes, it’s the sound we all despite,
It’s the water, no, the rain who we love and hate.
See, with time, driven by life, it changes it’s fate;
Borne to be the cold, pure snow who we love and hate.
Falling still, staying like wind, it seems as a bride
Who in her dance tried to mask the wrongs she made,
Made by her innocence, tainted from the inside.

Now, as time restarts it’s flow, we begin to see t’s true form-
Could this be the shape of love?

Borne to be the cold, pure snow who we love and hate,
See with time, driven by life, it changes it’s fate;
It’s the water, no the rain who we love and hate.
Drop, drop; here it comes, as the sound we all detest.