Why does your mother always make you do a job when you're having fun?
In the corner of the dusty yard he's made a spaceship out of aluminum
"Go and get me a bag of mushrooms from
The market, don't spend more than this coin"
And then she looks up and searches the sky for just one drop of water
Come on Boy, please, bring the rain
Bring the rain
Bring the thunder from the hills
Bring the spray from off the sea
Bring the rain
Sometimes bullets fly and crack... into walls overhead
We don't even look up anymore
You can take everything from some people
And they'll still have room for more
He's a barefoot monkey
You can't bring a running boy down
In the street old mothers dressed in
Black cry from parched and cracked mouths
Come on Boy, please, bring the rain
Bring the rain
Bring the thunder from the hills
Bring the spray from off the sea
Bring the rain
And the market place is filled with things
That he never ever gets to see
Chocolate bars and DVDs
And the voices all around him are a hubbub rising to a scream
And you've dropped your coin,
Better not stop to pick it up boy, something's coming
There's a rumbling in the air and there's
A feeling everywhere that something's coming
And the sky is filled with planes
Bring the rain
Bring the rain
Bring the rain
Bring the rain
Bring the thunder from the hills
Bring the fists and bring the flame
Bring the rain
Because when it comes, when it comes
It comes in a flood
To wash everything away
Bring the rain