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One comes, the rain will always be. And things I am are things that should not be. They laughed at me, but we never bothered. My friends and I – there were no others. Now it comes, bolt across the blue… Shadows dance over the land… Walls high, water deep, brick and steel gathering speed. But I guess it’s just a feeling… just a feeling.
Rain may come, and rain may never be. The things you are are things I need to be. My friends were there, but they never bothered. Now there’s you and I – there are no others. It’s like when death becomes musical… it’s musical.
And it comes to make sure that he will never rise. The groans from the bellies have never cried this hard, and the eyes of the wicked ones have never been this full of dust. In the middle of the sea it waits… closer… Towards the sea we may drown, fly, fall from faith, but the pain won’t be realized, because the emotions will hit as God should, and the mountains will offer no shelter, and the clouds will be no cover… No matter where we run.
Don’t die on me. Don’t go away when I need you here, in my need… The rain will come. The rain will always be. The things I am are things that have to be. My friends have come and I never bothered. Myself and I – there is no other. It’s like the death becomes musical… It’s musical.
The Death of Music (Devin Townsend, 1997)