River spills over the banks Washing the rocks, tearing roots out Rushing in brooks, making curves Pity for hail begging drought Don't you cry, don't you wait Let that leave, let your tears dry Won't sound right, but I don't love you Those who choose traveling alone Especially during their spring time Rarely, but make it back home Sewing the wounds, hands with grime Don't you cry, don't you wait Let that leave, let your tears dry Won't sound right, but I don't love you