The rain is falling down. Along with the sky. The colors and remembered suns. Are pouring by.. . What will I do with the sky. When it is empty?. . Come to the window.
I didn't even know the man. I didn't know the man himself. Even though his music filled my life. As it has so many others. . I knew that he had died that week.
Sometimes I remember the old days. When the world was filled with sorrow. You might have thought I was livin'. But I was all alone. . In my heart the rain was fallin'.
In Rough Rock, Arizona he lived for many years alone. A gangly kid from Colorado, who could sing the sweetest songs. I first heard Woody's songs from him in a cabin in the snow.
There's no where to hide, no where I can go. I reach out my hand touching death itself. just another holy day in Sarajevo. . Hiding from the planes and from the bombing.
[Chorus]. Shule shule, shule aroon. Shule the agaragar, shule the coon. Shule shule shule aroon. I don't think that anyone should tie me oh. . Here I sit on Buttermilk Hill.
"The minstrel boy to the war is gone. In the ranks of death you'll find him;. His father's sword he has girded on,. And his wild harp swung behind him.".
I would have sworn I could have flown. There were some things I hadn't known. Stripped to the soul I'd reached the bone. In sanity and grace. . You gave me wings but took the sky.
My grandmother's house is still there. But it isn't the same. A plain wooden cottage. A patch of brown lawn. And a fence that hangs standing. And sighing in the Seattle rain.