A Magic bullet against your drought Were sumptuous rainfalls Dreary whispering of how you love Sun-baked objects It’s a little strange how you walk And I still hear your withered talk I am blooming I am blooming Without you You’ve lost your tears in a vale of dust You’re a wilted flower How could I now miss your face As I’m watered in a shower? It’s a little strange how you walk And I still hear your withered talking