Rainy Day, not much to say.

Rainy Day, the haze will stay.

Rainy Day, let’s drift away. 

Take me there,

Garden fair.

Blue and grey, 

Claude Monet. 

It’s not mine to understand. 

All the brushstrokes of your hand.

Or to make the meaning clear.

Of all the things you hold dear.

For a moment still, 

All the love you feel,

Claude Monet. 

Fields of gold, can’t be sold.

Fields of gold, clouds that roll.

Fields of gold, poppy scarlet bold.

Take me there,

Garden fair.

Blue and grey, 

Claude Monet. 

Fields of wheat, flakes of snow. 

Fields of wheat, gentle glow.

Fields of wheat, wish I could know. 

Take me there,

Garden fair.

Blue and grey, 

Claude Monet. 

  

It’s not mine to understand. 

All the brushstrokes of your hand.

Or to make the meaning clear.

Of all the things you hold dear.

For a moment still, 

All the love you feel,

Claude Monet.