Brian woke up early that morning. Whiping sleep from his eyes, he noticed the sun wasn't even up yet. He did not look forward to the time when everyone else would be awake. Sitting up, he turned to the window and watched the rays find their way into the window of his room. He tried to feel warmed by them, but shivered from the cold of the room. He closed the shades. Picking up a pencil and his notebook, he dated the page and waited, hoping an idea of what to write would come to him.
Rich or poor or famous for
Your truth it's all the same
Oh lock your door but rain is pouring
Through your window pane
Baby now your struggle's all vain