(In the) Pouring Rain

<br>(Strummer)<br><br>I could see as I rode in<br>the ships were gone and the pit fell in<br>a funeral bell tolled the hour in<br>a lonely drunkard slumbering<br> <br>not the twang of the guitar<br>not even the siren wail of pain<br>not the shadows of desire<br>caught in the pouring pouring rain<br> <br>breeze black windows on date street<br>where I was raised up on the cheap<br>(yeah, say!) ask no questions work and sleep<br>`til the old tango that`s on date street<br> <br>I can hear the sharpen of the pain<br>some lucky stranger in the rain<br>hear the sharpen of the rain<br>lucky stranger ... in the rain<br> <br>hammers beat in dusty times<br>on these weedy rusted lines<br>mocking the sun and optomistic signs<br>all these weedy gates of iron<br> <br>the sun won`t shine my way again<br>lucky moon was on the wane<br>oh I`ll never see a star again<br>in the pouring pouring rain<br> <br>a salty band played for the train<br>a sad trombone and some refrain<br>the future pointed to the weather vane<br>the old calypso died of shame<br> <br>I hear the sharpen of the pain<br>some lucky stranger in the rian<br>hear the sharpen of the pain<br>lucky stranger pouring rain<br> <br>POURING RAIN !!!