I wish you knew how deep
I fell into this dark secret
that I recognize quickly as my love
for you, someone who held my hand
when I thought I was dying
from drowning in the rain.
These tears of ours like winter rain,
they fall and make the rivers deep,
and all the flowers are dying
because they're all drowning in secret,
awaiting someone's gentle hand
to pull them up with forceful love.
And you, the one who's still afraid of love,
can never tell that in your rain
I watched you reach a desperate hand
to heaven, where the river is deep
and there exists no secret,
when you saw all the living dying...
but now my heart is dying
because you're leaving me, my love...
your deeds that were done in secret
are washed away in December's rain,
but you dream in a night so deep
that I can only hold your hand
and watch as your frail hand
falls quietly as you lie there dying.
Is it too late to let you know how deep
in my heart is a tender love
for you that I saw in the April rain
when I noticed in your eyes your secret--
an affection that is now not so secret?
But now I still hold your broken hand
while outside the October rain
is slowly, ever-gently dying.
Why didn't I ever let you know my love?
But we know the sleep of death is not so deep...
And so few dying understand the secret:
that blessed is the hand that holds onto love
when the rain brings floods that are so deep.