"A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love," - Stendhal (1783 - 1842, France).
Even though I see it rain, I'm in love.
Even though you see it rain, you have a noose around your neck.
There's no way someone would want to lose their life on such a magnificent day I tell you.
Your hair is drenched from root to tip and dark spots are beginning to consume my clothes.
Zetsubou, zetsubou, zetsubou.
Magnificent day, huh? You chuckle to yourself (or perhaps someone else entirely?).
Didn't you hear the weather man? Rain for the next week, with temperatures below freezing.
The air embraces my body in a close hug, but it couldn't compare to yours.
The roads and allies were empty, even the wild souls hid in their sanctuaries.
You wait for an answer (or perhaps a prayer?).
I look up into the empty vacuum above, crying itself pure on everything below.
Fuck the weather man, it's a great day.