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More than rain

by Tom Waits


It´s more than rain that falls on our parade tonight
it´s more than thunder it´s more than thunder
it´s more than a swindle this crooked card game
it´s more than sad times it´s more than sad times
none of our pockets are filled with gold
nobody´s caught the boquet
there are no dead presidents we can fold
nothing is going our way
and it´s more than goodbye I have to say to you
it´s more than woe-be-gotten grey skies now





 

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