Naive boys think my cloudy skies are mysterious.
They like to play in my rain, jump in my puddles.
Smile. Laugh. Have a good time.
Some even dare to take out their tongue and taste me.
Then the storm comes
and they run.
They jump from booming thunders,
shudder from howling winds,
and close the door
to block my loud cries.
That's why I hate it when people say they love the rain.
Because they only love me
when they're away from me.