Windswept,
windswept and crying in the rain,
with your hand on your heart,
feeling pain,
feeling pain,
wanting to leave,
wanting to leave,
and head off into the grey dismal streets,
and standing in a doorway amidst the buckets of rain,
the buckets of rain that fall,
and that gather in large puddles on the pavements,
and in the street,
as the sky above looks apocalyptic,
and the wind it howls at you,
and does not want to leave you be,
and the rain it falls as heavily as can be,
and you stand there windswept,
windswept and crying in the rain,
with your hand on your heart,
and feeling pain,
and feeling heartbroken,
and with a shattered heart,
and palpitations,
and pain like daggers,
like daggers in the rain,
stood there on a dark night,
on a miserable night,
stood there feeling lost, stood there feeling alone,
and not knowing,
which way in life to go,
and out late,
late at night,
off to drown your sorrows in a bar somewhere,
to temporarily fool yourself that love did not matter anyway,
and for a moment or two to not complain,
to not complain,
and to get drunk,
very get drunk,
and to forget who you are and to forget this broken heart that plagues you and that rampages around your brain,
so off you go into the rain,
off you go down the city streets,
looking for alcohol to numb the pain,
to numb the pain.