Last good rain storm of twenty two. 
Hope the water washes any last trace left of you. 
My long hair soaked through the shirt I was wearing. 
So used to swearing that I'm fine. 
I think mean it this time. 
I think mean it this time. 

Tree in the backyard blew down; 
streets flooded all over town. 
Canvas is clear; 
drowned all my fears. 
I'll come around. 
I'll come around again 
and move on from you. 

Raincoats and warm clothes are on. 
Thought I lost hope, I was wrong. 
Thought I'd get cold, 
but it never gets old 
feeling my messes wash away. 

Last good rain storm of twenty two. 
Hope the water washes any last trace left of you. 
My long hair soaked through the shirt I was wearing. 
So used to swearing that I'm fine. 
I think mean it this time. 
I think mean it this time. 

I think mean it this time. 
I hope mean it this time. 

Learned how to dance to the sweet, healing sound 
of the last, good rainstorm hitting the ground. 
Dived into puddles and swam through the fear. 
The last, good rainstorm washed my heart clear. 

The river that formed on my road 
carried away this heavy load. 
Lost every trace, filled up your place. 
So used to swearing I'm fine. 
I really mean it this time.  

'Last Good Rainstorm of 22' - 23/03/23.
It's currently raining. And I have 2 days left of being 22 (💔).