Still,
I think of you, baby
And how i grew old with you then
And this summer, you'll call,maybe
And act as if we were old friends
You'd say, 'how are you, baby'
I'd say, 'it's raining in athens'
And to this day
I nurse the fever
That spoiled my poor heart
And i've mastered the art of dealing
Slipping away without falling apart
So when this summer, you call-maybe
And ask how
I've been
I can be honest and answer plainly
'Since november, it's been raining'