Each time you cry I can hear it again
The sharp splash of winter, the tears from your eyes
The pitiful, pitiful patter of rain.

When you scream, the wind shrieks and winces in pain
The storm in your lungs makes the sound of the skies
Each time you cry I can hear it again.

Your eyes, falling downwards, are pulling a chain
Releasing a shower of torment and lies
The pitiful, pitiful patter of rain.

All darkness and fear that your soul can contain
Is heard as the trembles of thunder arise
Each time you cry I can hear it again.

Your weeping has flooded the dams of disdain
There's no way to dull or diffuse or disguise
The pitiful, pitiful patter of rain.

The sadness you store and the rue you retain
Make nature call out to embrace your demise
Each time you cry I can hear it again
The pitiful, pitiful patter of rain.