The thunder rollsgarth brooksthree thirty in the morning,not a soul in sight,the city's looking like a ghost townon a moonlit summer night.raindrops on the windshield,there's a storm moving in.he's heading back from somewherethat he never should have been.and the thunder rolls.and the thunder rolls.every light is burning in a house across town.she's pacing by the telephonein her faded flannel gown.asking for a miracle,hoping she's not right.praying it's the weatherthat's kept him out all night.and the thunder rolls.and the thunder rolls.chorusthe thunder rolls, and the lightning strikes.another love grows cold, on a sleepless night.as the storm rolls on, out of control.deep in her heart, the thunder rolls.she's waiting by the windowwhen he pulls into the drive.she rushes out to hold himthankful he's alive.with all the wind and rain a strange new perfume blows,and the lightning flashes in her eyes,and he knows that she knows.and the thunder rolls.and the thunder rolls.chorusfrom: "david garnsey" <garnsey@gateway.net>