So the lights, come up, through the window
Sit up straight now, breathing in, the desert wind.
And no no, the plane is going to stop here.
The air here is straight up my, skin.
It’s not raining today, so just stop looking,
And looking away, I like you that better that way.
In just 5 days, I lived that night, ten-thousand times,
I swear he was singing, about you and you and me.
On a hill side without lights are clouding over.
I saw big sky through two shades of green.
It’s not raining today, so just stop looking,
And looking away, I like you that better that way.
It’s not raining today.
How long has it been, since you were clothed in a
southern evening?
Since you felt anything, in this world you build and
lived in?
And how long must this go on, I know there must be some
kind of ending?
Still I rehearsing, all that could have been.
You read a magazine, and share your hand, you lay the
seat back, and touch my face, again.
It’s not raining today, why don’t you stay?
Stay longer than yesterday; you know I’d like it that
way.
It’s not raining today, so don’t go, don’t go just yet,
and don’t, forget there, Elizabeth, we’re going home
today.
She’s out there waiting, waiting in lay, like you
better that way.
It’s not raining, whisper my name.
I love the things you say, I like you better, I live
you better, I like you better, this way.