Far away in lands lost long ago there was a child young and innocent, carefree, unknowing of the things the world would bring to it,
So it ran amok and every day it played among the flowers and the trees, only the wind to guide it,
And there was no one there to warn it of the things to come and no one to tell it to prepare,
And there was no one there to warn it so it ran without a care

And when the rain fell down it lifted its head up and tasted it,
And when the rain fell down it cried and said this rain is beautiful, I admit.

Then the child, grown in part, held every day close to its heart and mastered the forsaken art of being where it wanted to be,
So it climbed atop a willow, wandering free,
And there was no one there to warn it of the things to come and no one to tell it to prepare,
And there was no one there to tell it that the rain was bad to it ran without a care

And when the rain fell down it lifted its head up and tasted it,
And when the rain fell down it cried and said this rain is beautiful, I admit.

Now the child, fully grown, who lived its life all on its own, met another child wandering free, it was
A little child, the smallest one, who’d always only known the sun, whose life had hardly just begun, with nobody to tell it what not to be,
And there was someone there now to tell of things to come and how to prepare
But the someone there just told it to wander free without a care

And when the rain fell down it said lift your head up and bathe in it,
And when the rain fell down the child smiled and said this rain is beautiful, I admit,

The rain is beautiful, isn’t it?