A Slight Chance of Sun

Autumn turns to Winter, and Spring into Summer.
You brush your hair once again.
Your picture in the mirror, the same as it’s always been.

Call you on the telephone.
Same old story same old lies.
I can’t believe what you’re telling me, but still it’s no surprise

It’s just your nature,
Your shines and storms
And I, your weatherman, am always wrong

Some Scattering Smiles on Monday.
On the fourth a series of doubts will start.
One things for sure, there will always be a hurricane to rip out my heart.

Armed with an umbrella,
I walk up your stairs.
I’ll always be your springtime, and wipe away your cares

A Slight Chance of Sun

Catcha

Joined November 2007

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