Sometimes old memories let you get away, let you loose your grip on reality. Let you have that break from life that you so badly needed. All those little seeds you once planted, that have now grown to old big trees that you can climb up and hide in. Your own little secret place. Old faces flash before you, guiding you through your past, running away from you, running fast. Time is running faster and faster. Time stands still when we hold hands, racing out in the open field, start to wrestle in the grass. It's getting chilly in the air, a few drops of water fall down. Suddenly we're caught in a storm, and we love it. We let it rain.

Sleeping in my bed, hearing the heavy rain splatter against my window. We look out, as much as we can see, still laying there in the middle of the night. Whispering, your soft voice tickles my ear. Still laying there, looking, at nothing particular, looking at everything that is worth looking into, your tired, smiling eyes. You close your eyes. We still hear the rain outside, we slowly fall asleep.

Every raindrop a tear, every cloud is an eye. Sun is still shining every time I walk away. We hear life and voices, our biggest fear is if our voices die. We don't need them, we don't say a word. We die in the arms of each other, sleeping for eternities. All those tears are the raindrops that wake us up from our sleep, bring us back to life, to present, to now, killing our dreams forever.

It used to rain here.
It used to rain...