[Raining In Athens]
Still
I think of you, baby
And how I grew old with you then
And this summer, you'll call-maybe
And act as if we were old friends
You'd say, 'how are you, baby'
I'd say, 'it's raining in Athens'
And to this day
I nurse the fever
That spoiled my poor heart
And I've mastered the art of dealing
Slipping away without falling apart
So when this summer, you call-maybe
And ask how
I've been
I can be honest and answer plainly
'Since November, it's been raining'
--
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