The air always smells of rain
somewhere, right?
So somewhere, you're always knocking on a door
And somewhere, I'm behind the same door
And somewhere, somebody is saying,
'It's for you'
Even though you're not for me, and I
can tell that
just by smelling smelling the air
(Which does not smell like rain)
But these words are for you,
They'll always be for you-
And maybe someday I'll open the door.
It won't be you,
or maybe it will be you
and maybe you'll be here for me
Isn't that a nice story?
You wouldn't believe the stories I tell
myself
while I sit here in the sun
and dream of rain.