My real State, my life is dull
and dried up, like the sound
a voice makes when
the heart goes cold,
and it's going that way.

I think, I'll move out of state,
somewhere far from
Seattle's city lights;
they burn my eyes.
California sounds nice,
but California's a lie.
Maybe, I'm out of luck,
or maybe, I'm just blind.
Oh, this time.

Rain on my hopes.
Rain on my soul.
Rain on everything that I know.
It feels so ludicrous -
the pursuit of this dream;
we thought we'd be there long ago.

My life is like a rolling river -
so muddy and absurd.
And although I might be mistaken,
I know that I'll be heard.
And I find,
the second I try to pull away,
I'm thrown back in line.
Oh, this time.

So, rain on my hopes.
Rain on my soul.
Rain on everything that I know.
It feels so ludicrous -
the pursuit of this dream;
we thought we'd be there long ago.

Rain on my hopes.
Rain on my soul.
Rain on everything that I know.
It feels so ludicrous -
the pursuit of this dream;
we thought we'd be there long ago.

And we are all looking for
the same thing, the same thing.
Seattle is calling me
back home, back home.

So, rain on my hopes.
Rain on my soul.
Rain on everything that I know.
It feels so ludicrous -
the pursuit of this dream;
we thought we'd be there long ago.

Rain on my hopes.
Rain on my soul.
Rain on everything that I know.
It feels so ludicrous -
the pursuit of this dream;
we thought we'd be there long ago.

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