What can a man trust in?
Its over my head and over my shoulders.
Like a blade pushed deeper in,
cutting me closer over and over.
This rock on which I stand,
over time will it be eroded?
As the storm rolls in,
it sure does feel like it.
Its over my head, its over my head.
Isn't that the trick? to trust in spite of it.
The steadiness of rain meets the steadiness of pain.
Oh sweet rain, won't you wash me.
Its over my head, its over my head.
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