The rain is like a curtain,
the drops are like the cloth,
that thick and heavy velvet
with corners chewed by moths.
The world outside’s a theater.
We turn the script’s first page.
Until the rain stops falling,
we’ll practice here, backstage.
The rain is like a curtain,
the drops are like the cloth,
that thick and heavy velvet
with corners chewed by moths.
The world outside’s a theater.
We turn the script’s first page.
Until the rain stops falling,
we’ll practice here, backstage.