It takes three seasons to go by
for angels to look at the earth, and in the fourth, they cry.
Their hearts bleed at the sight of humanity’s pain and they can’t help but let loose their tears as rain.

“Maybe!” they shout to each other, “if we cry a little harder we can show
that the flowers that dried can once more grow.”

‘Pitter-patter’, they pour and pour
so every heart that’s heavy may know—
that though the world grows dry with sorrow
we still have angel tears to borrow.