Trejo

When the rain pours down its sorrow
And everything just seems so wrong
And your troubles seem so many
And your nights seem so long

So you ask yourself these questions
Bu then struggle with the truth
That all the easy answers
Get left behind with youth

And your sadness is your blanket
And your heart an empty cup
Your memories are prisons
And your times not nearly up

Your weariness surrounds you
Like a fog that has no end
Your passion is a letter
That you’re never going to send