It's late De-cem-ber and the New Year's nev-er com-ing,
time pass-es slow-ly in a two-room walk-up flat,
The sun is silent there's a cold rain's gonna come on,
No one to talk to but my lady's yellow cat.
Raindrops falling on the flowers in the window box,
Plastic roses that I planted yesterday.
I didn't think they'd die so soon but they're all withered now,
Seems like everything I touch turns out that way.
Well, I guess I'll just go walking,
The cat's no Good for talking to,
He don't know what I'm saying
And the rain is always playing on my mind, on my mind.
Street lights drifting through the blinds that cover window panes
blending softy with the bare lights overhead.
Then together they run swiftly through my memory
An eerie image in a strange and empty bed.
The wind is whippin' up the papers in the street below
I got some books to read but it seems they've all been read
Clouds are crowded in a misty drifting sky above
I wish to hell I could remember what I said.
One crystal wine glass on a table filled with scarlet stains
Stands alone and empty where there once were two
The jug is silent on the table by a broken plate
The wine is gone, my lady, and so, my love, are you.
And the rain is always playing on my mind, on my mind, on my mind
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