It is raining
out my window,
gently falling summer skies.
All the trees are
drinking water,
me know with the cold and dry.
It is raining out my window on my Tennessee home.
Yes, it is raining on my Tennessee home.
I can see an old plantation,
no one lives there anymore.
Yankees took it,
made a station,
to eat the wounded in the war.
And it is raining out my window on my Tennessee home.
And it is raining on my Tennessee home.
On my wall a
faded picture,
someone left a photograph.
Man and woman looking bitter,
long ago sent to last.
And it is raining out my window on my Tennessee home.
And it is raining on my Tennessee home.
Yes, it is raining on my Tennessee home.
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