Weather man,
Up in the sky,
Do you float or do you fly?
Gold and grey - you look so strong,
Mighty,
But never there for long.

Weather man,
Towering tall,
A countenance to rule us all,
A slice of hope, a glimmer of heaven,
Angels inside,
Won’t you let down a rope?

Weather man,
In your bed of blue,
May I climb up and be with you?
Wish I could steal a little thunder,
And get out from under,
The might of your hand.

Weather man,
Do you cry?
Silver teardrops tumble by,
Bless us now with one more kiss,
Then strike me down,
As you turn the skies around.

I remember,
The afternoons of make believe and
Music,
Oh how we’d sing and shout!
And I’m wondering,
How long before we’ll all be leaving,
Every time that I’m in your house.

I can hear it,
The symphony of pots and pans and
Father,
As quiet as a mouse,
Please forgive me,
The way that I still clitter clatter,
Every time that I’m in your house.

Guess it’s only,
Another four walls and a staircase,
I know,
It’s time that I got out,
But Mother,
Your voice is in the walls of this place,
Every time that I’m in your house.

First light in Mendoza,
I felt a little closer,
When I called you on a telephone card,
I was danced off my feet,
I had nowhere to sleep,
The pisco had left me off guard.

And the tears fell like rain,
Rolling across the plain,
Wind calling your name,
In the Plaza Independencia,
At the sunrise you were there,
In the breeze I swear,
I could see your hair,
Floating across the square.

I was lost with the lingo,
Well, call me a gringo,
Sin encanto por señoritas,
The quiet of dawn,
Had me feeling forlorn,
Somewhere they were playing guitars.

And the tears fell like rain,
Rolling across the plain,
Wind calling your name,
In the Plaza Independencia,
At the sunrise you were there,
In the breeze I swear,
I could see your hair,
Floating across the square.