Oh I’ve heard a story of a little boy from India

His eyes were green and his heart swayed with the sea

And there was a tired man full of worry

He feared the rain and it drove his heart to poverty



He said, “when the rain comes / We’ll all be washed away”

But the boy quietly got to his knees

He prayed at night for all set right

Oh the tired man / He craved, caught, killed caressed the comfort of fear

Wore the shadow for a cloak, all satin and sheer

But the boy bought him lamps / Brought him bottles of ocean clear

Showed him creatures bright as pearl / Said the ocean tasted like a tear

He said, “when the rain comes, it’ll flow to the sea”

But the man he was spent / It could only spell calamity

He could only see Hell / He said, “when the rain comes

No one will listen when you pray” / But the boy said, “Take my hand

“Come with me / And you’ll be free

Feel the breeze blow off the sea

You can see far / But it’s about

What you can’t see”