Cloudy, the sky is gray and white and cloudy.
Sometimes I think it's hanging down on me,
And it's a hitchhike a hundred miles;
I'm a rag-a-muffin child,
Pointed finger-painted smile.
I left my shadow waiting down the road for me a while.
Cloudy, my thoughts are scattered, and they're cloudy.
They have no borders, no boundaries;
They echo and they swell,
From Tolstoy to Tinker Bell,
Down from Berkeley to Carmel.
Got some poems in my pocket and a lot of time to kill.

Hey sunshine, I haven't seen you in a long time.
Why don't you show your face and bend my mind?
These clouds stick to the sky
Like a floating question, why?
And they linger there or die.
They don't know where they are going, and, my friend, neither do I.

Cloudy (cloudy),
Cloudy (cloudy),
Cloudy (cloudy),
Cloudy (cloudy).
(Repeat and fade)