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I hear the drizzle of the rain,
Like a memory it falls,
Soft and warm continuing,
Tapping on my roof and walls.

And from the shelter of my mind,
Through the window of my eyes,
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets,
To England where my heart lies.

And a song I was writing is left undone,
I don't know why I spend my time,
Writing songs I can't believe,
With words that tear and strain to rhyme.

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