as the two lanes slicken

and the clouds they hug that ridge just stickin'

when the wind that whistles knocks the panes from old windows

down rainy streets

there's a light that meets the ground

in the warm rush of blood to the head fights the sick that's been around

when bags of icy knives pull hard down on the mercury

and winter's whip of cold kills everything in a nursery

down rainy streets

well there's a light that meets the ground

and the warm rush of blood to the head fights the sick that's been around