• Holy nights
    We collect
    Rain beneath
    The maple tree

    A sunny cloud
    Rises above
    Drops dew into
    My palms

    Saturday rain
    All the same
    Feel the winter
    On my spine

    In the graveyard
    Where I asked you
    A question too
    Turned our life into
    A fairy tale
    In Saturday rain
    What I tell you thrice
    Is true

    I feel great
    In the rain
    Another time
    To feel again

    Times are gone
    Start anew
    This time I
    Can't be beat

    Sunday comes
    I'm still here
    A dream has
    Come true