The gray-clouded mists
Hang dark in the air
And block out all sign of the sun

So as the rain falls
On this car's windshield square,
And our trip has only begun,

The feelings I have
On this great nation's birth
Are muffled by fear and by dread:

That the journey we take,
And this joyous day's worth,
Might be bankrupt before I see bed.

The fire's bright spark
And explosion's fine crack
May not fill tonight's sky

The weather's so wet,
And conditions are stacked
Against our seeing the lights.

But this day, of course,
Means so much, much more
Than any light show could express

Our Independence is worth
Any cost, any tour.
No matter how wetly it's dressed.

Having thrown off the rule
Of kingship and queens
And taxation without represent

We should eas?ly endure
Some rain on our scenes
Of celebration without lament.

Or ev'n o'ercome them,
Those inclement clouds
That would so abscond with our view,

And let loose the fire,
Regardless of shrouds,
And burn all those mists right through.

Wouldn't that be,
Among other things,
An appropriate act on this day?

So let the sparks fly,
As that grand chorus sings,
"O'er the land of the free and the brave."