Ah, it's raining. Not that I know of course, I was sleeping.

Sense of melancholy and nostalgia fills me.

I wonder, what is it that I should do.

Thunder o' thunder, where are you?
I wish you were here, so I won't hear myself thinking.

I don't know what I'm thinking exactly, though.
This sickness is a disease to my mind.

Like a child yearning for solace,
I wonder what is it you're yearning for.

Eluding you.
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