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Rainy Sunday There's a gray November in her eyes Hopeful Monday Just the kind that cannot tell you lies Busy Backstreet All alone she sits and dreams of you In the backseat It's the only place she feels renewed With her toes curled She writes down all the things she meant to say In her own world Caught up in the shame of yesterday Lost for miles Takes her thoughts and throws them all away Rarely smiles If I only knew I'd found a way With her toes curled She writes down all the things she meant to say In her own world Caught up in the shame of yesterday Open your window and let her come into your heart In a white sheet Bowed in bed she cries herself to sleep On a cold street Out the window in a lonely heap With her toes curled She writes down all the things she meant to say In her own world Caught up in the shame of yesterday Open your window and let her come into your heart.