The table's round. The table's gray
It stays the same day after day
And never stops us to complain
Of rain in Amsterdam
The tree is silk. The tree is green
Off in the corner of the scene
That greets me when I come home clean
From rain in Amsterdam
She wants to run. She wants to play
She gets on board and flies away
From where the sun shines on L.A.
To the rain in Amsterdam
Now she sits and waits. She sits in bed
The window on the streets of red light
Showering upon her head
Like rain in Amsterdam
Her shoes are worn. Her shoes are old
From looking for the streets of gold
That lead the blind in from the cold
And rain in Amsterdam