Now its raining its pouring
the old man is snoring
now I lay me down to sleep
I hear the sirens in the street
all my dreams are made of chrome
I have no way to get back home
I’d rather die before I wake
like Marilyn Monroe
and throw my dreams out in
the street and the
rain make ‘em grow
About author
- Author's profession: Musician
- Nationality: american
- Born: December 7, 1949
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